#in a complimentary way to be clear.

[many-gay-magpies]

can i just say one great big 'what the fuck' to doctor who series 9 episode 11 "heaven sent"? because seriously WHAT THE FUCK

[thrandilf]

My Italian Viren HCs that have any basis at all: his deep devotion to his family, coffee, strong opinions about cheese, likes fancy desserts, I like his Italian VA

The rest: he'd do the finger pinch thing when he's being intense about something, I have been unable to get the mental image of him riding one of those Lime scooters with Aaravos holding onto him from behind out of my head since living here in Italy

[sluttycinderella]

every time i remember that neil gaiman and amanda palmer used to be married i feel insane. truly grimes and elon musk for freaks.

[babysgarage]

has he always had this belt 😭

[britneyshakespeare]

My new friend’s childhood best friend is in prison. It’s bullshit, right, but it is what it is and it’s very hard on everyone who loves this guy. My friend, the guy’s girlfriend, the guy’s family. The guy himself obviously but that goes wo saying. The prison-industrial complex in the United States is fucked up. It especially hits you when you have such a close connection w someone who’s on the inside of it.

I recently did a portrait of this guy. I spent about a month working on it. For his girlfriend’s birthday. But I’m making copies of it for his family because I want everyone who loves him to know... you know. People care. They’re not alone. No one is. I’m not planning on posting the portrait on here for privacy reasons. This guy’s family has been through some serious harassment and if my portrait were identified, which is very possible, that could become very very dangerous.

My friend has shown all of his family and friends my portrait, though. Everyone but his girlfriend who we still haven’t been able to meet up w since her birthday, lol. And the guy’s stepfather owns a restaurant that I’ve been to three times. It’s really good. The mixed drinks there are no fucking joke though. I’ve been there three times, but I’ve walked out sober zero times. You know you know.

The first time I went, my friend introduced me to the guy’s stepfather. It was really late at night though and it was only for a second; I hardly remembered what the guy looked like. And he was just like “Hey this is my friend” and I shook his hand and all that. And I was pretty obviously drunk. This was last month, before I finished the portrait. I don’t remember if at that time he knew the portrait was being made; I know my friend showed several of his family members pictures of it even when it was just in progress. But he did not say “This is my friend who’s doing the drawing” when I met him the first time.

This time I met the guy’s stepfather again. I was DRUNK drunk. And my friend called him over to the table and said “This is my friend who drew your son” and I did look him directly in the eyes (I remember what his face looked like this time) and he was just very kind to me. I wish I could remember better what he said, but he was like, “It’s very beautiful, and you’re very talented. The features look so much like him.” And I was just like. “Thank you. It was really really really really really really hard.” Or something like that. Nodding over and over again. Lol.

One day I will meet the family of my latest portrait’s subject, sober. One day they’ll meet the artist who did a charcoal drawing of their son when she’s not fucked up on tequila in their eatery.

[screampotato]

Suddenly struck with a need to explain to you how boat pronouns work (I work in the marine industry).

When you're talking about the design of the boat, you say "it".

When the boat is still being built, your say "it".

When the boat is nearing completion, you can say "it" or "she".

When the boat is floating in the water you probably say "she", unless there is still a lot of work to be done (e.g. no engine yet) then you say "it".

When the boat is officially launched and operating, you say "she". If you continue to say "it" at this point you are not incorrect but suspiciously untraditional. You are not playing the game.

If you are referring to a boat you don't really know anything about you may say "it" ("there's a big boat, it's coming this way"). But if you know its name, it's probably "she" ("there's the Waverley, she's on her way to Greenock").

If you are talking about boats in general, you say "it" ("when a boat is hit by a wave it heels over")

If you speak about a boat in complimentary terms, it's "she" ("she's a grand boat"). If you are being disparaging it may be it, but not necessarily ("it's as ugly as sin", "she's a grotty old tub").

If she has a boy's name, she's still she. "Boy James", "King Edward", "Sir David Attenborough"? The pronoun is she.

If it's a dumb barge (no engine), you say it. But if it's a rowing boat (no engine), you say she.

I hope this has cleared things up so that you may not be in danger of misgendering floating objects.

[sleepysick]

()()()()()()()()

[ponderingmoonlight]

JJK men pretending to date you to get rid of unwanted attention

Pairings: Geto x fem!reader; Megumi x fem!reader; Choso x fem!reader; Gojo x fem!reader

Word Count; 3,9k (Gojo's part is loooong)

Warnings: got carried away by Gojo again lol, no real warnings except creepy guys and fluff over fluff, forgive me Noritoshi lovers, I know I did our man dirty in Megumi's part

Geto Suguru

It’s a quiet afternoon in the city. You and Geto have been meeting at this cozy café once a week for months, a little ritual that started after one too many of countless exhausting missions. The place is familiar and comfortable, usually a perfect escape from the noise of jujutsu sorcery. But today, things are a little off.

You notice it immediately when you enter, the way the barista’s eyes follow you. He’s new, someone you’ve never seen here before, and while it’s normal for people to glance over at new faces, this guy’s gaze lingers. It’s unsettling, but you ignore it, not wanting to overthink things. Maybe it’s just the way your hair falls today or the fact that you’re still wearing your uniform since you’ve just returned from another mission.

You sit down across from Geto, who’s already sipping his tea and scrolling through his phone while lounging with his manspread on point.

As you allow yourself a sip of your favorite drink too, you try to relax. This has to be your imagination running wild, you aren’t even that pretty, right?

But every time you look up, the barista is staring at you, his eyes heavy with intent. Eventually, he makes his way over, holding a plate of complimentary cookies. Fuck, what are you supposed to do?

“These are for you,” he purrs, offering you a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“On the house.”

You blink, taken aback. The stinging smell of way too much masculine perfume almost makes your guts turn and forces you to hold your breathe. You can tell by one look in his eyes what his intentions are – and they definitely aren’t sincerely.

“Oh, um, thanks,” you murmur, unsure of how to refuse without making things awkward.

The guy lingers, his attention focused solely on you. When he takes another step towards you, the alarm in your head starts going wild. What the hell does this creep want?

“You come here often, don’t you? I’ve noticed you a few times.”

Geto looks up from his phone, his eyes narrowing slightly as he notices the barista’s attention. He says nothing at first, but there’s a subtle tension in the air that wasn’t there before. There’s no doubt in the fact that you’re feeling uncomfortable.

“Yeah, we come here a lot,” Geto interferes smoothly, his tone polite but firm.

“Together.”

The barista’s eyes flick to Geto for the first time, a shadow of irritation crossing his face. He clearly hadn’t noticed him before.

“Oh,” the guy mutters, his smile faltering.

“Are you two…?”

Geto leans forward in his chair, casually placing his warm hand on your thigh while giving you that smile that almost makes you choke. The move is subtle but possessive, his body language making it clear what he’s implying. And your body? Oh, you’re all over the place, your face already hot from the minimal touch of his palm.

“Yeah, we are” he replies simply, giving the barista a look that’s both confident and warning.

The guy frowns, obviously not pleased with the answer, but he doesn’t push it – much to your relief.

“Well, enjoy your cookies,” he gabbles before turning on his heel and heading back behind the counter.

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, your body finally relaxing as the barista moves away.

“That was weird,” you comment, glancing at Geto with a small, grateful smile.

Geto shrugs, his usual calm smile returning.

“Some people don’t know how to take a hint.”

You chuckle, feeling the warmth of his hand still resting against your thigh.

“Thanks for stepping in. I didn’t know how to handle that without being rude.”

“It’s no problem,” Geto replies, his fingers brushing lightly against your covered skin while he leans in slightly.

“Besides, pretending to be your boyfriend has its perks.”

Your cheeks flush even deeper at his words, but you laugh it off, knowing he’s just teasing…

Does he?

There’s something about the way his eyes linger on you for a moment longer than usual, the faint smirk on his lips that makes your heart skip a beat.

“Come on,” Geto finally declares, standing up and offering you his hand.

 “Let’s get out of here before that guy decides to bring us another free snack.”

You take his hand with a smile, letting him lead you out of the café, the tension from before completely forgotten.

Are you actually going insane or was there a…spark?

Megumi Fushiguro

It’s a typical day at the jujutsu high training grounds. You and Megumi have been sparring for a while, your breaths coming in short gasps as you try to keep up with him. He’s quick, precise, and annoyingly good at reading your movements, but you’re giving it your all.

During a quick break, you head to the sidelines to grab some water. As you wipe the sweat from your brow, you notice one of the students from Kyoto High approaching. You’ve seen him around before, but you’ve never spoken much beyond the occasional greeting. After all, you’ll wring each other’s next in a few hours, there’s no need for any formalities. Was his name Noritoshi Kamo?  Before you’re even able to finish your sentence, he stands right in front of you…

And talks?  

“Hey, that was some impressive stuff out there,” he begins, leaning against the fence next to you.

His smile is strangely friendly enough, but there’s a glint in his eye that makes you uneasy.

“Sorry, are you talking to me?” you reply, keeping your tone neutral as you take another sip of water.

The guy doesn’t take the hint.

“You know, if you ever want some private training, I’d be happy to help,” he offers, stepping a little closer.

“I could teach you a few tricks.”

You stiffen slightly, your eyes flicking to where Megumi is standing a few meters away, watching the interaction with narrowed eyes. Before you can respond, the guy takes another step toward you, his hand reaching out as if he’s about to touch your arm.

But before he can, Megumi steps forward, his expression hard.

“She’s not interested,” he says flatly, his voice cutting through the air like a blade.

The guy blinks, taken aback by the sudden interruption. “Oh, I didn’t realize you two were-”

“We are,” Megumi interrupts firmly, moving to stand between you and the guy.

His presence is protective but not overbearing, a silent wall that the other student quickly decides not to challenge. All you can do is to stare back and forth between the two. That guy, who never said anything to you and now suddenly tries to flirt and Megumi, who stands in front of you like a wall in order to protect you from unwanted attention? You have to be dreaming.

“Right… well, I’ll see you around, I guess,” the guy mutters awkwardly before turning and walking away.

Once he’s gone, you let out a small sigh of relief, glancing up at Megumi with a grateful smile, even though you can’t shake off those violent butterflies roaming around your stomach.

“Thanks for that. He was pretty straight forward and I was too bamboozled to act.”

Megumi shrugs, his usual stoic expression back in place.

 “He was bothering you.”

You smile, appreciating the way he always looks out for you, even if he tries to downplay it.

“Still, you didn’t have to step in like that.”

Megumi glances at you, his cheeks flushing just slightly before he looks away.

“It wasn’t a big deal,” he mumbles.

“Besides, I didn’t want him to distract you from training.”

You laugh softly, shaking your head at his stubbornness. While this is the first time Megumi stood up for you in this strange way, you can’t help but fall over and over for that boy who hides his feelings like a treasure. Is there a chance that he might like you as well?

“Well, I’m glad you did.”

He doesn’t respond, but there’s a faint smile on his lips as he turns back to the training ground, ready to spar again. And though he doesn’t say it, you can feel the warmth in his actions - the way he stands a little closer, the way his eyes flick to you more often than usual.

“Maybe”, you mutter to yourself before returning to the training field by his side.

Choso Kamo

You never imagined that a simple grocery store run would turn into a whole situation. You’re wandering down the aisles, trying to decide between two different brands of pasta when you notice a guy lingering nearby. At first, you think nothing of it, people shop all the time, after all.

But then he approaches.

“Hey, need any help with that?” he asks, giving you a smile that’s a little too friendly for comfort.

You offer a polite smile back, shaking your head. Oh, you know men like him good enough, the ones who are only interested to drag you into bed. You’ve seen them countless times before, but in the grocery store? People are really desperate nowadays.

“No, I’m good, thanks.”

He doesn’t leave, though. Instead, he steps closer, his eyes roaming over you in a way that makes your skin crawl.

“You sure? I’ve got some great recipes I could share with you. Maybe over dinner sometime?”

You glance around, feeling trapped in the narrow aisle with no way out and no one nearby. Fuck, this isn’t good. Even if he won’t do anything in the grocery store, you still have to get back home – alone. And with that dark lust glittering in his eyes, he definitely won’t give up.

Just as you’re about to make up an excuse to leave and steady yourself for ramming your knee into his groin, you hear a familiar voice behind you.

“She’s already got dinner plans,” Choso announces, his tone calm but firm as he steps up beside you.

Choso.

Your heart skips a beat when you seem him, his eyes resting comforting on yours. Choso’s here? He didn’t even mention that he’ll go shopping when you last saw him at jujutsu high.

He places a gentle hand on your lower back, guiding you away from the guy with a quiet confidence that leaves no room for argument.

The guy raises an eyebrow, clearly irritated by the interruption.

“Oh yeah? And who are you?”

Choso’s expression doesn’t change, his dark eyes locked on the man with a quiet intensity.

“I’m her boyfriend.”

The guy snorts, clearly not believing it at first, but when he sees the way Choso stands protectively at your side, he seems to reconsider.

“Right… well, my bad,” he mutters before turning and walking away.

You let out a shaky breath, your body relaxing as soon as the guy is out of sight.

“Thank you. I thought this creep will follow me until I’m home” you murmur, looking up at Choso with a relieved smile.

“You could have just killed him.”

“You know I couldn’t do that…”, you reply with a scolding undertone.

These past weeks, you’ve spent a lot time with Choso and taught him simple human interaction. Was this why he stood up for you like that?

Choso glances down at you, his hand still resting lightly on your back.

“Are you okay?”

You nod, more than grateful for his presence. Even though his hand still resting against your back sends shivers down your spine.

In a strangely good way.

“Yeah, I’m fine now. I just… didn’t know how to get rid of him.”

Choso frowns slightly, his gaze softening as he watches you.

“You don’t have to deal with that alone. I’m always here if you need me. From now own, we will go to the grocery store together” he replies quietly.

Your heart swells at his words, and you smile up at him, feeling a warmth in your chest that goes beyond simple gratitude.

“I know. And I’m really lucky to have you.”

Choso’s cheeks flush slightly at your words, but he gives you a small nod, his usual calm demeanor returning.

“Let’s finish shopping,” he says, gently guiding you toward the next aisle.

“I’ll stick close, just in case.”

Gojo Satoru

The bass thumps through your body, the vibrations of the music almost tangible as they pulse through the packed nightclub. Neon lights flash over your head, casting everything in a rainbow of colors, and the crowd moves like a living, breathing body. It's a typical night out with Gojo, who insisted you both hit the club after a long week of missions.

You spot him easily in the chaos, standing at the bar with his signature sunglasses on even in the dim, flashing light. His presence is impossible to miss. After all, Gojo is always the center of attention wherever he goes. His tall frame, casual stance, and self-assured grin naturally draw people in. And tonight is no exception.

You watch from the other side of the club as a woman approaches him, her gaze locked on Gojo like a predator targeting her prey. She’s tall, confident, and clearly intent on making her move. At first, you don’t think much of it - this kind of thing happens all the time when you’re out with him. Gojo is Gojo, after all. But the way she leans into him, brushing her hand against his arm, makes something sharp twist in your gut.

You try to shake it off. You’re not the jealous type, and Gojo has always been playful when it comes to flirting. He simply enjoys the attention, but you know it’s harmless. Still, there’s something about the way this woman is looking at him that makes you feel uneasy.

Even though your not even his fucking girlfriend.

As you make your way through the crowd, heading toward the bar, you see the woman press herself closer to Gojo, her lips moving near his ear as she says something you can’t hear over the pounding music. Gojo’s grin only widens, and he says something back, causing the woman to laugh, her hand lingering on his chest.

Your pace quickens, a mix of frustration and something else bubbling up inside you. You’ve been with Gojo long enough to know how he works, but tonight, for some reason, the sight of him entertaining someone else makes your chest tighten.

Finally, you reach the bar just as the woman leans in even closer, her hand now resting on his shoulder.

“Hey,” you say, louder than necessary to cut through the music.

“I see you’ve made a friend.”

Gojo turns his head at the sound of your voice, his trademark grin plastered on his face.

“Oh, hey, babe!” he calls over the music, completely unfazed.

“I was just chatting with—uh, sorry, what was your name again?”

Wait, did he just call you babe?

The woman looks visibly annoyed as Gojo fumbles for her name, her gaze flicking to you with thinly veiled irritation.

“I was just about to get us drinks,” she purrs, trying to brush off your presence, clearly not deterred by the fact that Gojo is here with you.

You raise an eyebrow at her audacity, but before you can respond, Gojo’s arm snakes around your waist, pulling you close to him with a casual but unmistakably possessive gesture. His hand rests securely on your hip, and he leans down so his mouth is close to your ear, his breath warm against your skin.

You feel like fainting. Or maybe dying? Oh, your heart will definitely beat out of your chest if that dream continues.

“She’s not really my type,” he murmurs, his voice low but playful.

“I’m more into, well… you.”

Despite the loud music, the tension in the air shifts instantly. The woman stares at you, clearly catching Gojo’s not-so-subtle dismissal, her expression darkening. And you? If it wasn’t for Gojo’s hand that keeps you in place, you’d land straight on your wobbly knees.

“Really?” she huffs, glaring at you like you’ve somehow intruded on her territory.

“Yeah. Besides, I’m already taken” Gojo replies easily, his grin never wavering.

You feel a small surge of satisfaction at his words even though you know he’s lying to annoy the hell out of her, but the woman isn’t ready to give up just yet. She scoffs, crossing her arms over her chest.

“You sure you’re not missing out?” she challenges, giving you a once-over that makes your skin crawl.

Gojo’s grip tightens on your waist, and this time, his playful smile fades just a fraction.

“Nope, I’m sure. I don’t think we need any drinks after all. They won’t help with your disgusting attitude anyway” he comments, his tone firmer.

With that, he smoothly turns his back on her, guiding you away from the bar and into the crowd. You glance back just in time to see the woman’s face fall, a mixture of disbelief and irritation crossing her features before she disappears into the crowd of people.

Once you’re safely away from the bar, Gojo turns to you, his grin back in place as if nothing happened.

“You okay?” he asks, his voice light and teasing, but there’s a flicker of concern in his eyes.

“Yeah,” you mutter, feeling your face heat up slightly.

“But you…Did you just call me your girlfriend?”

Gojo’s smile softens, and he reaches up to gently cup your chin, tilting your face up so you’re looking at him.

“What if I did? Would that be okay for you?”

Your heart skips a beat, your body reacting to his words in an instant. Is he making fun of you, testing you? No, you can feel that he means it by the way he holds you by your waist, his fingers resting there like he’s afraid to let go. The world around you feels muffled, the music and the crowd fading into the background. It’s just you and Gojo now, his bright blue eyes shining under the neon lights.

You swallow, trying to find your voice.

“I-I… I don’t know,” you stammer, suddenly feeling like the confident façade you normally carry around him has vanished. The way he’s looking at you so seriously, intently, is doing things to your heart that you can’t quite control.

“I mean, you don’t-”

Gojo interrupts you with a soft laugh, his hand sliding up from your waist to gently brush a strand of hair behind your ear.

“You don’t have to answer right now, you know,” he mutters, his voice a little softer than before.

“But I’ve been thinking about it for a while. I guess tonight just gave me the perfect excuse.”

You blink at him, too stunned to speak. Gojo Satoru, who flirts with everyone, who acts like nothing ever truly gets to him, has been thinking about you as more than just a friend? You’ve always had a bit of a thing for him, of course. It’s hard not to when he’s charming, gorgeous, and undeniably protective when it comes to you. But you never thought he felt the same way.

“I thought you were just messing with me,” you admit, your voice a little quieter now, feeling vulnerable under his gaze.

He grins, though this time it’s softer, not the usual cocky smirk.

“I mess with everyone. But with you? It’s different. I don’t just want your attention, I want you.”

His words sink in, and suddenly the air between you feels charged. Your heart is pounding in your chest, and you feel like you’re standing on the edge of something huge. You’ve seen Gojo in action. So fearless, confident, always in control, but the way he’s looking at you right now is different. He’s giving you the choice.

A swell of warmth floods through you as you meet his gaze. Maybe it’s the alcohol you drank earlier, or maybe it’s the fact that he’s just so close, but you can’t hold back anymore.

“You’re not playing around, are you?” you ask, searching his face for any sign of his usual teasing.

His smile softens further as he shakes his head.

“Not this time.”

Something inside you snaps, and before you can stop yourself, you close the gap between you.

You wrap your arms around his neck and press your lips to his in a kiss that’s been building for far too long. Gojo freezes for a moment, clearly surprised, but it only takes a second before he’s kissing you back with an intensity that makes your knees weak. His hand tightens on your waist, pulling you closer, and the world around you disappears completely.

The kiss is electric, everything you imagined it would be and more. You can feel the pent-up tension between you finally break as his lips move against yours, and when he deepens the kiss, your mind goes blank. All you can think about is the way he tastes, the way he feels, and the way your body seems to mold perfectly against his.

When you finally pull back, breathless and a little dizzy, Gojo is grinning down at you like you’ve just handed him the world.

“Well,” he comments, his voice slightly rougher than usual,

“I guess that answers my question.”

You laugh, your heart pounding wildly in your chest.

“I guess it does.”

He doesn’t let go of you, his arms still wrapped securely around your waist.

“You know, I don’t usually do this. Y’know, getting serious with anyone” he starts, his tone light but sincere.

“I know,” you reply, your smile softening.

“But I think we’re both a little different when it comes to each other, aren’t we?”

Gojo’s eyes flicker with something deeper as he nods.

“Yeah, we are” he murmurs, brushing his thumb gently along your cheek.

The club around you is still loud and chaotic, but in this moment, it feels like it’s just the two of you. Gojo, for once, isn’t playing his usual games. His smile is genuine, and there’s a warmth in his eyes that makes your heart race.

“So, does this mean I get to call you my girlfriend for real?” he questions, his grin slowly returning.

You laugh, feeling lightheaded and happy as you look up at him.

“Only if I get to call you my boyfriend.”

He raises an eyebrow, that familiar playful smirk creeping back onto his face.

“Oh, I think that can be arranged.”

Before you can say anything else, Gojo leans down and kisses you again, slow and deep, like he’s making sure this is real. And for the first time in a long time, everything feels right.

Tags:

@arehzhera @ploylulla @tzubaki @beatrexworld @kenstarsworld

@hellkaiserinphoenix  @lauv4chuuya @sindela @kayleegomez @sunshine7queen

@magalimachete @gatitam @idontknow1123 @creative1writings @sanicsmut 

@mynahx3 @sad-darksoul @chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix @chuyasthighs0

@ynackerman9499 @keepghostly  @froufrousnowman @tomiokathedepresso @gojosrealwife 

@coffeeluvr96 @mahi-tamashi @weebotaku21 @chaoticwinnercupcake @lees-chaotic-brain 

@risuola  @sugurulefttesticle @wordskeeper @baku2345 @polarbvnny

@ruixrei @bam-bam-bam-bame-blog @lavenderdrxp @localhehecat @alicerhr

@sugu-love @belovedvamp @wifenanami @chilichopsticks @dlwlrmas-world

@oikawarz @darkstarlight82 @satoreo @kentocalls @cheesemachine44

@ryva @kenjakusconcubine @baku2345 @komelrebi-san @deezy12299

@okay-it-is-ivy @paridoliaaa @cupcaketeddybehr @ryumurin

[solardrop]

silver.

aaron hotchner x reader.

summary: hotch really doesn't think getting old is sexy. tags: fluff. a suggestive line here or there but nothing crazy. age gap (reader in their 30s, hotch is 57). jack mentioned. i think this could be read as gn!reader but i could be wrong. just short and cute. word count: 1.0k a/n: last fics rules still apply. be nice to me! when i look up photos of hair dying on pinterest i get rainbow haired e-boys so accept this haircut photo <3 divider creds to @/cafekitsune

Your name echoes across the house when Aaron yells for you from the bathroom. Once you enter the space you're greeted by his hair spiked in every which way, covered in a brownish-black goop. His thick hands are gloved and hold a small black toothbrush-like applicator.

"Sweetheart, can you check if I missed a spot?" Aaron hands you the brush and tray of inky black dye. You make a show of rolling your eyes and pouting back at him in the mirror and you take the items from him.

"I forgot it was that time of month that you decided to cover up all your sexy.." you sigh.

"Really," he scoffs, a teasing smile creeping on his lips, "I thought all the sexy was gone when I shaved.'

You almost teared up remembering the loss of his beard. A case off the grid forced him to grow one out for a few weeks. You understandably jumped his bones upon seeing the new look when he returned. The extra hair provided some out-of-this-world sensations for your softest parts that you would never forget. Only for the wicked man to shave all of it after two days, citing the "professional dress code" of the FBI as the culprit.

You snap a latex glove onto your hand, "Shush and bend over, big guy."

He smiles and kneels to face you, his rough hands gripping the fat of your thighs. You slowly worked around his head, dabbing bits of dye in bare spots. Your fingers rake through the inky black mass on his head, gently massaging his scalp. Aaron hums and thanks you under his breath.

"Do you know why I started dying my hair so consistently?"

"To torture me?"

"No," he huffs," when Jack was about... eight? I had taken him on this trip with a couple of his friends and their fathers, it was fun, but at the end of the whole thing Jack pointed at the grays starting to grow out on my hairline and turned to his friends and said-"

"Baby no...."

"'Guys look! My daddy is sooo old!'"

You clamp your lips shut to hold in your laughter. You didn't want to embarrass him further, especially with the deep red flush rising up the nape of his neck.

"Oh honey Jack was still a baby then... kids are insane you know that"

" I do, and I know. I laughed it off. I know he didn't really mean anything by it, but I didn't know if he felt like the odd one out for having an old dad.." Aaron runs his hands up and down your legs mindlessly. "And now I don't want you to feel out of place either."

You pause at that. In the few years you and Hotch have been together, never has he shown any insecurity about the difference in age between you. And he sure as hell wasn't about to start now if you had anything to do with it. You slicked his hair back with your hands and placed the clear complimentary shower cap in the box on his head, snickering at how silly he looked. Once you slide the slimy gloves off you set the timer on your phone and grasp the face of the man you loved so dearly, forcing him to rest his chin on your stomach and look into your eyes.

"You have less than thirty minutes to explain to me why you think I'd care about you looking old"

"you're young-"

"I'm in my thirties-"

"you're younger," he corrects "than me by quite a bit. All your friends have other young people to share their life and first experiences with. Meanwhile, you're stuck with a sixty-year-old-"

"You're fifty-seven-" Your eyes roll.

"a fifty-seven-year-old with a sassy kid turned angsty teenager for a child." he sighs, "Sweetheart I just don't want you to ever look at me and feel a loss."

You take a moment to scan his face. Despite the stupid shower cap mushrooming around his head, his face showed no amusement when he spoke. The sweet, shy smile he always sported around you was gone, replaced with a grimace and furrowed brow.

"Aaron I have never felt more loved, accepted, and safe than I have with you. I know you know that," you say.

He nods, pressing a quick peck to your belly button before looking at you. His eyes search yours for a moment of hesitation or change in resolve. but you stand your ground.

"The only thing I worry about with you on my arm is fighting off all the homewreckers."

He wheezes a laugh at this. Eventually having to stand up before he smears the dark dye all over you. He always does this. Laughs and acts like he wouldn't have crowds of people stop to fawn over his beauty if he let them.

"Remember that neighbor at the old apartment who would only stop by with cookies when she knew you were home?"

"Or the time Jack's classmate profiled their teacher's crush on you?"

"Don't even get me started on that detective JJ keeps telling me about from years ago in New Mexico. The male detective."

He smiles at you sheepishly, "You've made your point."

"If you want to dye your hair or shave to make yourself happy I think you should," you whisper, "but Aar I love every version of you possible"

You press your lips to his cheek before you continue, "You are the most beautiful, devastatingly sexy old man out. And I will still throw myself at you in public if you decide to finally ditch the box dye."

He smiles at you fully now, eyes shining as he looks down at you. He slides his lips against yours, grinning into the kiss before he pulls away to thank you.

"Maybe after this starts to grow out I'll see how I feel about the silver again." He looks back at his reflection in the mirror. He turns his head every which way to peek at the processing strands under the shower cap.

"Think about the beard too damn it.." you mumble. You begin to wander out of the bathroom when he yells for you again.

"Oh and sweetheart one more thing," you turn to look at him, confused when he stifles a laugh, "will you still think I'm sexy if I start balding like my father?"

[hjvi]

Love her madly

Pairing: Bsf!Chris Sturniolo x Fem!Reader

Summary: Chris is more than willing to lend a helping hand, even on film.

Warnings: SMUT. MDNI. Camgirl!Reader, fingering, dirty talkin’, all that good stuff.

Word Count: 4.6k

Everyone had a career, whether it was accounting, mechanical engineering, or meteorology - everyone had something that provided monetary income. Something to survive, hell, some people even loved their jobs. For you, work was a bit more personal. You interacted with customers frequently, purchased things to pull in newer eyes, and you were damn good at it. 

Questions directed your way on the topic of your career were quickly, and skillfully deflected. Most dropped the subject, willing to delve into the next conversational topic, others were persistent. Your friends were the ladder, childhood companions who knew you better than you knew yourself. They’d nudge your arm with their elbow, teasing you with their theories on what you did for a living. 

Hitman, masseuse, dog trainer. All of them were incorrect. 

Except for one, one whispered statement into the crook of your neck on a night when all of you found yourself way past the point of inebriation. It had caught you off guard, admittedly sending a flush of heat across your chest and cheeks. If it had been anyone else, you might’ve gotten away from it unscathed. 

But you didn’t, because Chris had been the one to guess correctly.

Luckily for you, Chris had no issue keeping a secret he found amusing to himself. However, his keeping of your secret included a few ill-made quips at your expense. Whenever company dwindled low, leaving only the pair of you sitting together, he’d inquire about your line of work. His words always came off hushed, almost near a whisper, but the questions were genuine nonetheless - and his intrigue was palpable. 

Usually, your work centered around yourself, toys and props were included every few clips, but it was mainly you on your lonesome. Your viewers seemed to love it enough, and if one tipped particularly heartily, you usually indulged in a little fantasy-making. Every few days you’d check your inbox, mainly to clear out spam messages and the occasional creep, but one caught your eye as you scrolled through the monotonous topics. 

A regular, a nearly fifty-year-old man with enough wealth and boredom to stock your tip jar with obscenities tied into compliments. He was kind, and lascivious, but nice enough to leave you genuinely considering his request - it certainly helped that he’d stuck a hefty tip onto the end of it all. 

All you had to do was find someone to sleep with, no biggie. 

Right?

Whatever method you’d used in the past to hype yourself up had failed you, miserably, leaving you drumming your fingers against the cool tabletop of your booth in feigned hope to ease your worried mind. Out of your friends, and coworkers you were acquainted with, only one struck you with genuine possibility. 

Christopher.

You framed your meeting around buying him lunch, which admittedly, you had promised to do after he bought you lunch the past fourteen times. It didn’t take much convincing, and after a whopping thirty-second phone call you found yourself waiting at your local diner. 

The complimentary fries were enough to keep your mind distracted, the sharp sting of the salt against your well-bitten lips keeping you settled in the present. You weren’t worried about embarrassing yourself, you had walked in on Chris with enough women to officially blind yourself. The worries flurrying around your mind centered around your friendship with Chris, one you’d had since the both of you were scraggly kids.

“Hey, kid.” Chris quipped with a sharp push to the back of your head, quickly snapping you from your mind with a groan. He only laughed at your reaction, a lopsided smile crinkling the skin by his eyes as he plopped himself down across from you. 

“Ass.” You murmured, fighting away your smile with a rub to the back of your head. “Go ahead, order what you want. I’m like, what- fifty dollars in debt?”

“More than that.” Chris replied with a sigh and a reach across the table, grabbing a few fries before tossing them into his mouth. “Who’s counting? I ain’t.” 

You had spoken to Chris on nearly every topic under the sun; sex, academics, money, drugs - all of it. Yet you were left feeling uneasy about raising such a premise with a lifelong friend. As you two finished your orders, you found yourself willing your silent mind into words, hopeful that there would be an eloquent way to word wanting your best friend to fuck you on camera. 

“Chris-“ You started with a clear of your throat, free hand grasping one of the few remaining fries from the basket between you both. “I wanted to ask you something.”

Chris hummed, not bothering to hide his intrigue as he relaxed back against the leather booth, legs spread in a manner that left nothing to the imagination as the denim of his jeans clung to his upper thighs. You weren’t sure if he noticed your blatant staring, the way your eyes couldn’t decide if they wanted to focus on his parted lips or his parted thighs, he wore a smirk nonetheless. 

“You know what I do for work, so I don’t have to explain that part.” Before you could finish your words, he leaned forward, resting his elbows against the cool tabletop between you. “I was wondering if you wanted to film something with me?”

“You want me to fuck you on camera?” He asked, tone full of nonchalance and loud enough to turn a few heads from those seated close to you. You were half-inclined to leap across the center table and clamp your hand over his mouth, but you knew Chris well enough to know that would’ve fueled him more. 

So, with a crimson-tinted face, you nodded. 

To your surprise, he lifted his drink to his lips with a shrug of his shoulders and a quick, “Alright.”

Relief flooded your senses quicker than relative confusion on his quick decision, your mind not wanting to jinx things or have him second guess it all. Chris had done risky things before just to say he’d done it, maybe he viewed this under the same lens? 

Some childlike part of you was left wondering if he still saw you the same. It wasn’t every day that someone called their best friend over for a lunch date, only to spring on in the middle of it all that they wanted you to fuck them on camera. 

“Chris-“ You began, clearing your throat halfway through the word. “Do you- do you look at me the same?”

His brow quirked, confusion written clear across his face as he chewed away on another fry. Once he saw you were being genuine, his eyes rolled and he let out a lengthy sigh. 

“‘Course I do.” He mumbled. “Everyone does something for cash. I don’t mind lending a helping hand.” 

Even though his words ended in enough insinuation to leave you choking back another laugh, you were thankful for him. He was an odd friend, one you were constantly worried about the mental and physical well-being of, despite knowing that his brothers take care of him, but you knew that he’d fucked enough girls in his lifetime to leave him perpetually unbothered.

“Cool.” You chimed, beaming him a genuine smile as you lifted your hips, fishing around in the back of your jeans for your wallet. “Little weird you’re willing to do it with no convincing, but I’ll take it.”

He snorted at your words, leaning back against the cracked leather of the booth with his drink in hand. “You make me sound bad, kid. Just want to help you out is all.”

“Is all?” You asked, placing down enough money to cover your tab and his, along with a hefty tip in a silent apology to your waitress for having overheard Chris’s filthy mouth. “You realize what I’m asking you to do right?”

His eyes flickered up to yours, a look within them you hadn’t seen before, it left your stomach flipping in on itself. With a quick placement of his empty glass against the table, he leaned closer to you. 

“I’m going to fuck you on camera.” He stated, once again, not quiet enough for your liking. “And when you post it, you get paid. Helping hand, right?”

A ‘helping hand’ was a different frame of mind for it all, but you agreed with a shallow nod and a quick sip of your drink. 

“There are people here.” You whispered as you fished an ice cube from the bottom of your glass. “Don’t need them knowing my business.” 

“You aren't seeing these people again.” He quipped with a quick reach across the table for your glass, his thick fingers slinking to the bottom of the cup for an ice cube of his own. “I’ll make it up to you later, how’s that?”

“You better.”

You tried to ignore the cocky smile that overtook Chris’s lax features, the way his lips wrapped around the ice, the droplets of water curving around his wrist. While you lost yourself in the flex of his jaw as he chewed away at the ice, Chris let his mind run wild with everything he could do to make you regret your words. 

Your apartment was modest, never something you bragged about, but you felt comfortable and proud enough of it to have people over several times a month. The guys had made their home in your apartment, each having their own designated spot they’d relax in for the time being until they moved onto something else that captured their attention. 

Chris was your couch, pressed tight against the exposed brick wall, directly underneath one of the bigger windows overlooking the land beneath the building. He’d always push the window up, leaving the screen down to ensure no bugs crawled in while talkin’ to whoever had come with him to bother you. 

Just as you assumed he would, he kicked off his boots and slung his jacket over the back of a nearby armchair, giving you a short-lived grin that sent your stomach careening in on itself before he made his way down the adjacent hallway. You followed behind him, abruptly kicking off your shoes as well before padding after him. 

“Chris?” You called, watching as his form disappeared behind the beads you kept stapled to your doorway. They served as a makeshift curtain, only Matt and Nick seemed to love them as much as you did, Chris always swatted at them - not that day, however. “Hell are you doin’ in there?”

As you parted the beaded curtain to the side, you caught sight of Chris making himself comfortable on your bed, legs sprawled out before him as he struck a match against the side of his belt buckle. His blown pupils gave away his internal thoughts, so you decided against wasting time. You already had a set-up near your bed, it took no time at all to have everything propped up, and with the click of your camera, Chris looked up to you. 

“Strip.” He murmured, a sharp inhale following the order as he took a drag from his cigarette. “Come closer, darling. You want the camera to see, don’t you?”

You nodded, moving closer to the end of your bed. His hips lifted as he not-so-discreetly adjusted himself through his jeans. The sight of his cock straining against his jeans sent your confidence through the roof, and with little more than a smile directed his way, you lifted your shirt up fingers softly running up your ribs and over your head, letting the fabric fall to your feet. 

“Shit-“ He breathed, eyes widening as you began unfastening your belt. You didn’t try to contain the giggle that left you at his comment, you knew you’d feel the same in only a matter of minutes. 

“C’mere.” He murmured around the filter of his cigarette, a soft smile toiling with the corner of his full lips. You listened without wasting a second, kicking your unbuttoned jeans off your thighs until they were a crumbled mess against the hardwood floor. 

His eyes watched you as you moved over to your bed, how your chest flushed a deep crimson, the heat spreading up your throat until it turned your cheeks the same hue. You noticed the faint lift of his hips as you sunk to your knees, the soft bedspread enveloping your legs as you crawled over to him. 

“Sit between my legs, baby. Want them to see how pretty you look.”

You were used to holding yourself to a certain degree whenever you filmed your videos, a personal disconnect from your real self. Chris had done away with it, his eyes coaxing you in, deep brown hues echoing each pant that left your parted lips. As you moved to sit between his legs, he hooked an arm around your middle, effortlessly pulling your back flush to his chest. 

The smoke from his cigarette left your eyes watering, but all you could focus on was the steady throb of arousal between your legs, every atom of your body screaming for his touch. Your hips shifted, twisting, inadvertently brushing your ass back against his lap. You felt the rumble of his breath circling his chest, the reflection of his head falling back reflected on your nearby camera lens. 

“Stop that.” He laughed out, words muffled as he kept his cigarette steady. “Already hard, baby. Gonna make me cum before I get to show you off.”

Wherever Chris had learned to talk filthy, you made a mental note to pay homage to. Each word sent shock waves through you, leaving your cunt clenching down around nothing, cum dripping down the cleft of your ass. As you tried to refocus yourself, Chris leaned back behind you, snubbing his half-gone cigarette on a nearby windowsill. 

With a slow exhale, his hand moved to cup your throat, tilting your head back to face the camera fully. You could see yourself in the reflection of the lens, face, and chest flushed, lips parted - pitiful. 

“Come on, pretty girl.” He urged, tone a centimeter away from being an all-out beg. “Spread your legs, show them your cunt.”

He spoke of your body as if he’d seen it, mapped out your being beneath his skilled tongue, and left kisses in places unseen by your own eyes. You obeyed, lips parted in a silent moan as his hands helped your thighs apart with a gentle push to your inner knees. His chin rested on your shoulder, eyes fixed on yours in the reflection of your camera lens. 

“Look at that.” He whispered, tilting his head to see you, a coy smirk written across his face. “Soaking wet already, huh? That desperate?”

You watched yourself, your cunt twitching around nothing, dripping cum onto the bed sheets below. His hands moved from your knees, slowly caressing your trembling thighs until his fingertips brushed against the swell of your sex. 

His left hand slipped back, fingertips digging into the hollow before your hipbone, pressing down in a manner to keep you steady as his right slipped down your cunt, fingers parting your soaked folds with ease. You allowed your head to fall back, eyes shutting in a relief so packed with bliss you could’ve thanked Chris until your voice gave out. 

With a chaste kiss to your shoulder, his middle and ring finger pressed into your cunt, gently curling up in a ‘come hither’ motion. Your hips rocked into his touch, pulling his fingers deeper, your body doing a better job at voicing your neediness than your vocal cords ever could. 

“Think you could cum from this?” He asked, even though you were both keenly aware of the fluttering of your cunt around his digits, the pants of breath that left you with each push of his fingers. You nodded, and he smiled. “Want to make you cum on my fingers first.” 

You turned your head, tucking your face into the crook of his neck as his fingers plunged into your cunt, the heel of his palm brushing against your clit. You lifted your arm, curling it around the back of his neck, holding onto him as though you were petrified he’d vanish beneath your grasp. 

A ravenous pleasure blossomed in your lower stomach as you rocked your hips into his palm, small pants and whimpers of his name tumbling past your parted lips. He whispered praise against the shell of your ear, gaze set on the reflection of you in the camera lens, legs spread, hands clinging to his forearm and along the back of his neck, cunt stretched around his fingers. 

“Christoph-“ You whined, voice breaking off into another desperate moan as your cunt fluttered around his fingers. He hummed, pressing a kiss to your temple as he pushed his fingers deeper, curling them upward with each thrust. He sent you careening over the edge with a gentle circle of his thumb around your clit, continuing the same blissful motion as you cried out his name into the crook of his neck. 

“That’s it-“ He hushed, cheek pressed to your temple. “Good girl, so fuckin’ good.”

Cum dripped from your cunt, dampening the comforter beneath you. Chris caught sight of it in the reflection of the camera lens, pride swelling in his chest at the realization that he’d made you cum hard enough to coat his fingers and the bedding in your arousal. Only when your moans broke off into desperate pleas did he slow his movements, fingers still gently rocking forward into your cunt, leaving you teetering on the edge of mind-shattering oversensitivity.

He lifted his arm after slowing his movements to a halt, exposing his glistening fingers to the warm sunlight pouring through your bedroom window. You watched with bated breath as he brought his fingers to his lips, his eyes locked on yours. It was as if the air was knocked from your lungs when he parted his lips, pushing the soaked digits against his tongue. You could hear the deep-set groan reverberating within his chest as your saccharine taste coated his tongue, all but making him drool as he sucked your taste from his fingers. 

His left hand moved to cup your jaw, tilting your head back as he lowered himself to meet your lips. His right grabbed at your breast, smearing his saliva along with the remnants of your arousal across your skin as his lips met yours. The moan that fell from your lips was pure, completely instinctive. He swallowed it with a moan of his own, fingers tightening their hold as they slipped down to cup the curve of your throat. 

You could taste yourself on his tongue, the muscle swirling around your own, ensuring you tasted yourself just as he had. It was lewd, debaucherous, leaving you clenching around nothing as you sucked on his tongue. His fingers tweaked your nipple in between rolling squeezes of the tissue, you couldn’t help but notice his tongue moving in sync with his fingers. 

“Chris-“ You panted, eyes fluttering open to meet his, recognizing the same carnal desire reflected in his irises. He nodded in response to your unspoken question, placing another chaste kiss on your lips as his hands hurriedly moved to unbutton his jeans. You smiled into the kiss, elated laughter bubbling in your chest as your hands moved with his, nearly tearing the fabric of his boxers in haste to have him. 

It was as if there was no camera, no incentive to keep you both pawing at each other besides the heavy lust hanging in the air, polluting your mind into nothing but a heavy daze of desire. Your cunt ached, desperate for some form of attention, but you refused to appease yourself - you wanted Chris, and by God, you’d have him. 

“C’mon.” He urged, wetting his lips as he reached behind him for a pillow. You hardly understood what he wanted from you before he pushed the pillow beneath your hips, his free hand settling against the small of your back, gently guiding you over the bunched-up fabric. You could feel his fingers spreading your folds as you settled yourself against the pillow, face turned toward the camera. 

“So fucking wet.” He whispered, tone riddled with equal parts amazement and disbelief. A wet squelch sounded through the silence as he pushed his middle and ring finger into your cunt, a sharp hiss leaving him at the feeling of your warmth enveloping his digits. Part of you wanted to be pissed, to yell at him for not fucking you, but the way his fingers curved inside of you left you pushing your hips back against his hand. 

As soon as you grew accustomed to the feeling of his fingers writhing inside of your cunt, he pulled them free, using your arousal to lubricate his already leaking cock. You pushed your face flat to the mattress, arching your back in a display so riddled with desperation it made Chris’s cock twitch. His hand grasped at your hip, steadying your trembling form as he swiped his tip along your folds. 

He was a performer, a natural before the camera. Each movement was fluid, and effortless in a way that made you pine for him. With a gentle push forward of his hips, he bottomed out inside of you, stretching your cunt in a manner that left you whining into the duvet. You could hear him steadying his breathing, hands tightening their hold on the flesh of your hips.

“Move-“ You ordered, or more so begged. “Please.”

He responded with a grunt and a sharp push forward of his hips, bullying the tip of his cock against your cervix. Once he was sure you had grown accustomed to his size, he pulled out, pushing back in rough enough to force the air from your lungs. You wove your hand down beneath yourself, circling your middle and ring finger around your swollen clit. 

“So fuckin’ tight-“ He rasped, right hand releasing your hip for a moment to smack at the plush of your ass, leaving a red imprint of his hand behind. You felt his hand smoothing up your back, fingers pressing into the muscle of your upper back before slinking around your shoulder. 

His hand wrapped around your throat, fingers pushing your jaw up, forcing your attention onto the camera in front of you.

“Look at the camera, doll.” He grunted, fingers tightening around the curve of your throat. “Let them see how you look taking my cock.”

You could only moan in response, the noise strangled due to his impeccably tight hold around your throat. You pushed your hips back against him, eyes bleary with tears from the combination of sheer pleasure and lack of oxygen. 

His thumb pushed into your mouth, pressing against the wet muscle of your tongue as he fucked you. You sucked at the digit, your moans concealed for nearly a second before his hips jerked against you, pushing his cock deeper into your cunt. You could feel your spit dripping down your chin and onto your breasts, breaths haggard the longer he kept you pressed back against him. 

Your breathy moans were no deterrent for him, his thumb against your tongue all but forcing your noises to be heard by anyone nearby. His free hand held you by your hip, his thighs slamming against yours with each eager thrust of his hips. You could feel the tip of his cock brushing against your cervix, deep enough to knock the wind from your lungs. 

Pleasure swirled within your lower stomach, settling heavy. The chase of your climax urged you to push your hips back, the sound of skin meeting skin echoing throughout your bedroom. Your cunt squeezed around his cock, each roll of his hips leaving you both breathless, hands grasping desperately at each other as your arousal built to a fever pitch. 

“Chris-“ You whined, tone carrying enough of a warning for Chris to trail kisses along the hollow of your throat in between rough groans of your name. Your hand slipped between your slick thighs, fingers finding home against your clit where you eagerly swirled your digits. “-I’m gonna cum.” 

“C’mon.” He urged as he smoothed his hand down your side, grasping the other side of your hip. “Cum for me, baby” 

A broken, garbled mess of a moan tore its way from your throat. Your eyes squeezed shut as pure euphoria shot through your veins, igniting every facet of your being as your cunt spasmed around his cock. You could hardly register the curses that slipped past his gritted teeth, how his hold on your waist tightened as he fucked himself into you, pushing his cock deeper. 

Your hands reached behind you, blindly fumbling against his dampened skin as he continued to bully his cock into you, fucking you into mind-numbing oversensitivity. His hands moved from your hips, both lacing around your wrists, pulling you back to meet each eager thrust of his hips. Your moans broke off, well past incoherent, delving into the grounds of depravity. 

“Sound so good for me, doll.” He rasped, his voice mirroring yours in its spent nature. “Want me to fill your cunt up, huh? Don’t you?”

Without giving you a moment to reply, not that you could anyhow, given your fucked-out state, he buried himself to the hilt inside of your still spasming cunt. You felt his grip on your wrists tighten to an almost painful degree as he grunted out your name, his hips jerking with each mutter that fell past his lips. Warmth flooded your cunt, spilling down your inner thighs, leaving a mess beneath you. 

As soon as Chris released your wrists you crumbled to the bedsheets below, deep, ragged lungfuls of air heaving your chest as your mind tried to remain in the present. Chris kissed along your spine as his hands smoothed up your sides, tracing your ribs, muttering words of praise lost on your fatigue-ridden mind.

“Doll?” He asked as he shifted behind you, left hand moving to cup the underside of your jaw, gently tilting your head back to meet his gaze. “You alright? Didn’t fuck you dumb, did I?”

You shook your head as you smiled, a small bout of laughter following the movement as you threaded your fingers through his, feeling your damp skin against your pulse point. His words didn’t shock you, if anything you might’ve been worried if he babied you for too long without jabbing at you - that was simply his nature. 

“Alright-“ He groaned, moving his hand from yours to pat your cheek as he moved from your bed. “Stay here, I’ll go get a washcloth.”

As the bed dipped from his departure you took a moment to catch your breath, stretching your legs out beneath you. You were sure you could’ve fallen asleep right then and there if it hadn’t been for Chris’s return. 

The mattress dipped beside you and a cool washcloth wiped away at your inner thighs and cunt. Chris cleaned himself off, tossing the dirtied washcloth to a nearby corner of your room before moving back to your side. 

“Turned your camera off.” He stated as he stretched his arms over his head, leaning back afterward to retrieve his nearby pack of cigarettes. You responded in a thankful hum, or what you attempted to make sound thankful. “Figured you wouldn’t want to use your legs for a while.”

Cockiness laced heavily in his words, but you were in no state to dispute it - even if you did, you couldn’t deny he’d fucked you until your legs were jelly. You glared at him through your tired eyes, taking note of his self-satisfied grin as he leaned back against your bedroom wall, a lit cigarette hung between his lips. 

“Ain’t arguing, are ‘ya?” He asked, to which you swatted at his exposed thigh with a stifled laugh. “Hittin’ ain’t denyin’.” 

“Shut up.” You responded, not bothering to hide your smile. “You’re too cocky for your own good.”

“Still ain’t sayin’ I’m wrong.”

A/N: I'm reposting this fic from my old account onto here:))) thank you so much if you take the time to read this!

tags - : @swagalicious260 @watercolorskyy @coquettechris @lovesturni0l0s @christmastreecake @ellbowmacaroni @blog-luvdance @sophand4n4 @meg4-matt44 @mommymomm @chriss-slutt @humpster35

╰┈➤𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒔 𝒕𝒓𝒖𝒍𝒚, 𝒉𝒊𝒗𝒊

[tinyyoruichi]

𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐝𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐚𝐜𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 ?

featuring : gn!reader + Zoro, Mihawk and Ace

warning : none

masterlist

Roronoa Zoro

His heart suddenly beats more rapidly whenever he sees you smiling, laughing, or even doing the most random thing. On top of that, Sanji's overly complimentary remarks towards you make him want to reach for his swords. No, this can't be. He's stared death down a thousand times, cut through countless enemies. Yet, this new feeling blooming for you – it's terrifying.

Zoro coming to terms with his feelings for you? Buckle up, because it's going to be a hilarious journey. Denial will be his middle name for a while, trust me. This dense swordsman will be in for a wild ride before he finally connects the dots.

Thanks to Nami's interrogation skills (and a little sake), the whole crew knows Zoro has a thing for you. Now, expect endless teasing from Luffy and Usopp, who'll probably try to spill the beans before a certain mosshead gives them his best glare.

Zoro finally figuring out his feelings for you? Great! Now comes the real test: talking to you about them. Because let's be honest, under that tough-guy act, he is probably a nervous wreck, sweating bullets at the thought of rejection.

Zoro's not exactly the Romeo type. So expect a confession that's straightforward, maybe a bit awkward – but heartfelt nonetheless. If you feel the same, a weight will lift from his shoulders. But if not, he'll respect your decision and try to keep things smooth between you.

Dracule Mihawk

Don't be fooled by Mihawk's stoic facade – because he is quite aware of his feelings for you. Years have honed his instincts, and unlike his pupil, he has no time (and he is too old) for childish denial. His emotions are clear, even if unspoken.

That man has a very calculating mind. He'll dissect every interaction, every glance, searching for a sign that you love him as mush as he loves you. Despite his solitary nature, his mind might already be constructing a future by your side – a future dependent on your response.

Mihawk is probably one of the few men in One Piece who are very romantic (Oda told me so). His brand of romance is subtle yet charming. Imagine leisurely strolls through his gardens or watching the sunset with a glass of wine by his side. A subtle offer of his arm, a hint of a blush from you – that might be all the encouragement he needs to take things a step further.

Once confident your feelings mirror his own, Mihawk will approach things in an (VERY) old-fashioned way. Be prepared for a carefully crafted dinner invitation, where he can formally request the honor of courting you. His pride lies in being a gentleman, and rushing into things is simply not his style. He prefers to court you slowly and respectfully, allowing your relationship to develop naturally.

After a series of thoughtful dates, Mihawk will finally take the next step and ask you to be his partner (Perona and Zoro might have placed a bet on the timeline, of course). Like everything he does, Mihawk will approach this new chapter with utmost seriousness. Your well-being will always be his top priority.

Portgas D. Ace

Ace isn't the denial type. The ache when you're gone, the quiet competition with Marco and Izo for your laughter – these are the clues that tip him off. Ace falling for you? It's written all over his flustered face. He stutters and turns red like a tomato when speaking to you unexpectedly.

The entire crew is a nuisance and teases him constantly about his love for you. They have grilled him mercilessly – “When will you confess?” they ask, convinced you feel the same.

Denial ? Once again, not Ace's style. But baring his heart, admitting his love for you ? That's a terrifying vulnerability he fears more than anything. On top of that, I believe he is also afraid of losing your friendship by making things awkward if you don't feel the same about him.

Thankfully, Marco, ever the voice of reason, is there to guide this lovestruck dummy. And honestly, this old man is tired of watching you two pining from afar. A stern talk from Marco might be just what Ace needs to understand that silence could lead to a missed opportunity for a great relationship.

Ace's confession? A masterpiece in the making, at least in his head. Daily mirror pep talks and a meticulously planned romantic gesture – that's how he plans to declare his love. Just imagine the blushing, the stammering, the potential for minor explosions (caused by Ace's nervousness, of course).

Dinner over, Ace reaches for something hidden in his pocket. His nervousness is palpable, a sheen of sweat forming on his brow. But then, with a determined glint in his eye, he throws caution (and the letter) to the wind, ready to confess his true feelings directly from the heart.

[uravitypng]

soulmate hanta who is completely oblivious to that fact that he is your soulmate. everybody is born with a soulmate mark, a scribble of words that are the first words your soulmate utters to you placed somewhere along your hip. hanta sero who is nonchalant and chill about things that he doesn't realise he's already met his soulmate. they met on the first day of ua and he didn't even notice, and you... well you noticed but how could you tell him.

everyone's going around introducing themselves, he doesn't introduce himself though. your bag was neatly tucked away under your desk, already ready to start class when hanta somehow tripped over it, he caught himself in the last minute

"fuck, that could've gone really bad." he grinned at you and you were too stunned to speak, your body felt warm, like fireworks exploding and the warmth left over from sparklers their bright vivid colours flowing through you, you found your soulmate. you didn't get the chance to reply to him, an authoritative voice started speaking, aizawa sensei, and then class started.

you tried really bad to talk to him but he oozed of confidence and friendless, if the roles were reversed and you tripped over his bag you don't even think you would of been able to say something, you'd probably just rush off in embarrassment. he jokes around with everyone and you fade away in the background, you didn't even mean to, it wasn't your intention, you told yourself that when you started ua and started the hero course you'd put yourself out there more but that changed when the idea of talking to your soulmate was so daunting.

soulmate hanta who lays in his hammock with his arm of his face, groaning because you are just so adorable! and you won't talk to him, you're quiet anyway but around him it's like you don't say anything. he doesn't even know if he's ever heard you talk. he frowns at the idea that you won't talk to him because you don't like him, he wants you to like him, he wants you to talk to him! everything about you leaves him in a tizzy- the way you smile, your laugh, your anime pins stuck to your bag, how you got bakugou to open up to you even before kirishima. he can't explain it but he just wants to be near you.

you want to be near him, you want to ask him about his favourite manga, you want to know more about him but you conclude your soulmate wants nothing to do with you. you've only spoken to him once, a month into meeting each other, and he didn't say anything about your mark. he didn't have any reaction. you were talking to bakugou, arguing over who did better in the practical today out of the two of you and you're too involved in proving that you were better that you don't realise hanta and kaminari have walked up to you both. you've spoken to kaminari on a couple of occasions he's nice but a bit too complimentary to girls for your liking and you haven't said one single word to hanta, overthinking every little thing. "oi, you two which one of us was stronger today in our practical?" bakugou shouts over to them.

you don't remember kaminari's response, you remember hanta's, "i mean you're good bakugou but she's miles ahead of you." your heart soars, you don't think you've ever been so happy in your life. shouting ensues, lots of shouting, bakugou calling hanta blind and various other insults.

over all that you say, "thanks sero, you were great too," the end of your sentence gets quieter and you stutter more. they can barely hear you over all the shouting. hanta doesn't look at you or make any acknowledge of what you just said, like 'oh hey, that's what my soulmate mark says' nothing. he heard you but he didn't want anything to do with you. the rejection hurt but you knew something like this would happen, you never expected him to like you but you would've liked him to say something like 'i'm not interested but i still want to be friends with you.'

the lack of any acknowledge on his behalf made it clear to you and you don't want to disrespect his wishes, if he doesn't want to get to know you then you won't force yourself into his life. what you didn't realise is your soulmate didn't even hear what you said... he didn't reject you at all he just didn't hear.

five minutes beforehand he was almost dragging denki by his sleeve over to you and bakugou because he wants to talk to you. he's had this warm fuzzy feeling from the first moment he's seen you and it's just grown and grown.

soulmate hanta is buzzing now that everyone is moving into dorms because surely that means you'll have to talk to him.

soulmate hanta who inserts himself into your life. that anime pin on your bag? he's asking if you've read the manga. he's making teasing jabs at bakugou with you about how his cooking for everyone gives it away that he loves all of the class, bakugou always tells him to fuck off and you have a fit of giggles. he gives you ideas when he can see you're struggling and hit a road block with your hero costume support items. he'll swing you with him to the roof of tallest towers in the city and talk for hours until the sun comes up about the future and plans for being a pro. he's loud and sociable and brings you out of your shell to speak up when he can see that you want but are too afraid to, he's there to give you a push but also relax with you in the dorms when he can tell that you don't have the energy for everyone. he'll bring snacks and you'll watch films and he'll speak to you gently and soothingly that puts your mind at ease when you get overwhelmed. he'll read you manga while you rest your head on his lap and you'll get overly competitive when it comes to mario kart.

you don't understand why your soulmate had this change of mindset about you, maybe it's because you're all living together but now you have him in your life you're not jeopardising that. the time you share with everyone is amazing, and the time you and hanta share with everyone is amazing but when you're just together alone that amazing turns into perfection. you want to bottle up those moments with a glass and keep them forever.

falling in love with hanta didn't surprise you, you knew it would happen sooner or later. you never spoke to each other about being soulmates or relationships (you thought you knew why) you didn't engage in conversations with the rest of the class about it either. you didn't want to put hanta on the spot like that, 'yeah, i've found my soulmate guys, i spend every day with him but he rejected me. oh look! here he comes now, hi sero!' you were wrong though. it didn't happen like you thought it did.

soulmate hanta who isn't just called 'hanta' in your head but when you speak to him or about him, after eight years of knowing each other you've gotten past the use of family names. the first time he heard you speak it his heart skipped a beat. your heads were pressed together and you were under a blanket asleep. you both drifted off at some point during film night, it was time for you both to start joint patrol so you woke him up, whispering his name. you joined the same agency so that meant you liked doing as much joint patrol with each other as possible.

soulmate hanta who's never been in a relationship before and is a complete virgin. he doesn't care about other girls, not even to look their way for a night, all he cares about is you. the idea of even dating a girl riddles him with guilt over how he wishes it was you. hanta is fully aware that you've never been in a relationship either.

soulmate hanta can't bare to look you in the eyes and hear about the person you love or how you're yearning to find your soulmate. he couldn't bare that pain. the idea that you have someone out there- it kills him. in that sense he's insecure, he knows he should be supportive and ask about your soulmate, it seems that every other person has had at least one conversation about it but he just can't. you've never even had a relationship and he knows he should ask why but then you might ask him the same question and the reason would be- you.

the thought that his words may be written on your hip never cross his mind, he's never been in denial that he loves you but he never thought it was reciprocated.

the thought that he himself has a soulmate never, even for a second, flits through in his mind. he doesn't think he's met them and he doesn't care if he does. they won't be you.

next

[bookshelf-dust]

something’s gotta give

gif by @kwistowee

eddie munson x fem!reader

word count: 5,988

warnings: swearing, crude jokes, sexual innuendos, general hatred for either party, one small mention of a judgmental christian lady, depictions of an accident involving a box cutter, talk of blood and the ensuing wound, banter, both reader and eddie trying to get under each others skin, enemies to lovers trope

synopsis: eddie munson is a prick. a prick who also happens to be your coworker. you hate his guts. he hates yours. and who would think there’d be reason for anything else?

a/n: well, hello!! i’ve been working on this idea for a little bit, and it was definitely a challenge because i’ve never taken on something with this dynamic before. it was so tricky to come up with all these snarky remarks, to build up a world where it made sense. speaking of, this is without a doubt a 90s!au. i am proud of myself for trying something new and i think it turned out pretty good. shoutout to @clovermunson for listening to me vent about my struggles and helping me mold eddie into the smartass he is. also thank you to @steph-speaks for making me a cutie rb banner!! peep it at the end of the fic. happy reading!!! <333

————

“Here’s your change and…there’s your receipt.” 

You bump the cash register drawer with your hip, slamming the thick metal shut. You give a big, warm smile to the woman in front of you. She has a face full of freckles and the most beautiful silver hair that makes her blue eyes look insanely vibrant. 

She grins back at you, setting her palm on the countertop, her nails painted a pale, shimmery shade of pink. “Thank you, sweet pea. And thank you for helping me find some goodies!” She shakes her paper bag. 

You hand her a complimentary bookmark with the store name on it. “You’re so welcome. You’ll have to stop by and let me know what you think about that one!”

“Of course! You have a good day, now.”

“You too!” You give her a small wave as she walks out the door, and move to put away the store’s copy of her receipt. Your smile drops immediately when you feel a looming presence behind you. The paper in your hand gets crushed when you shove it under the counter. 

“Damn, you flick the bean this morning?” Eddie’s voice drips with malice. You know he’s wearing that sinister ass smirk before you even turn to face him. 

“Why? Need some advice on how to find it, Munson?” You grab a stack of books off the counter and slide out of the way so he can clock in. 

The sound of his boots on the carpeted floors tell you he’s following you. He always is. 

“I think it’s a valid question, princess. You’re in such a good mood it makes a guy wonder…” 

You stop in the mystery section, looking for authors with the last name beginning with ‘F,’ and begin to restock. “Well, Eddie, if I got off and that’s why I’m so bubbly today, it’s pretty clear to me that somebody gave you blue balls last night.”

He laughs, snatching a book out of your hand to put it on the top shelf when he sees you rise up on your tippy toes. It pisses you off. “Harsh, princess.”

You turn around at the sound of the doorbell, but he stops you with an arm outstretched to rest on the wall. 

You grab his hand and shove it out of your way. “I guess you should’ve put that hand to good use then and given yourself a quick, and probably little, job before you came to your real one.”

When you escape his vicinity, you look around for the customer you heard come in. There’s a young boy wandering through the back section where you sell records, tapes, CD’s, whatever the fuck. It’s Eddie’s section, and therefore not your problem. 

You hold eye contact with the man in question, giving him your bitchiest look possible. “You have a customer, Munson. And…” you glance at your watch, “I’m going on lunch.”

Eddie watches as you cross your arms and march off to the break room. His gaze falls to your ass. You’re wearing this long skirt, one that falls just above your ankles so your boots poke out. The fabric is loose and flowy, but manages to cling to your skin and he can see every curve when you walk. Every bounce of soft flesh—

“Hey, excuse me?” The voice of a boy, no more than fourteen, snaps Eddie out of his dick-controlled reverie. 

He spins around to face the kid, putting on his customer service face. “What can I do for you, little dude?”

In the break room, you stand in front of the microwave, shifting back and forth on your feet while you wait for your leftover pasta to warm up. It’s rare now for your shifts to line up with Robin’s. She is a good coworker, and you’d built up this system, this rhythm, that Eddie has never even tried to build with you. 

God, you miss her. And you fucking hate Eddie Munson. 

You pull out a chair and sink down into it, too pissed to care that you’re essentially manspreading and certainly eating like a slob. 

What angers you the most is that you tried to be friendly with Eddie when he was hired. You have seniority over him, and you were happy to help him figure out how things worked. But he didn’t give a fuck. To you, it seemed like he was too good for your help. 

But the first time you saw him ask Robin for help, you realized that he just…didn’t like you. And you don’t know why. You have always been nice to your coworkers. You have no reason not to be. Except when you get to a point that you’re forced to match their energy. 

You down the rest of your drink. You need to go out and get some fresh air, despite the fact that it’s fucking scorching outside. 

Up front, Eddie gives the young boy his receipt and a little bag full of cassette tapes, buttons, and a patch that he helped him pick out. Another child saved from the masses of pop music, he thinks. 

He taps his ringed fingers against the counter, lowering himself so that his elbows rest against the cool vinyl. Out of the corner of his eye, Eddie catches a sticky note stuck to the edge of the computer monitor. 

The store’s goal total for today is written there, penciled messily in your handwriting. Eddie rolls his eyes. Why do you always have to be on top of everything like that? You’re so fucking uptight all the time Eddie’s surprised you don’t waddle because of the stick you permanently have up your ass. 

Ever since the day he got hired a few months ago, Eddie has despised you. He remembers taking a small tour of the shop and being introduced to you where you were organizing a new shipment of magazines. 

You stood, shyly fidgeting with the pin on your fitted denim vest. You were bubbly, with these sweet little doe eyes and an expression on your face like you were hoping to make a new friend. He remembers your palm feeling unsettlingly cold when he shook your hand, and now it all makes sense to him. 

What with the way you can change moods with the drop of a pin, how you manage to bring a storm cloud with you every time you walk in his direction but have everyone else wrapped around your finger. 

A cold-blooded bitch like you must surely feed on the souls of little children every morning. 

He hates how organized you are, how prepared. How you behave all patiently when you’re with a customer who’s been a prick, even though he knows it’s all an act because you’ll give him a death glare at any given chance. 

But most of all? He hates how fucking gorgeous you are. You’d think all that hatred would make you look like an old hag, but no. Instead you walk around in your skirts that show off that perfect ass and every once in a while you wear a shirt that shows the tiniest sliver of your stomach, or in some cases, your back, if you bend over. He hates when you wear those platform boots with the heels that allow you to level with him. 

And the fact that you’re walking toward him right now. 

Eddie watches as you strip off the cropped button-up you’d been wearing, exposing your bare arms. 

There’s a tattoo running up the length of your bicep that he’s never seen before. His gaze lingers on it for long enough that you catch it and raise a brow. 

“You cry when you got that, princess?” He points to the dark ink on your skin. 

You slide behind him and sit on the stool in front of the computer. 

“No, Eddie. I fell asleep. If you want to bond about how you wailed during each of your tattoo sessions, you’ll have to talk to Brian.”

He scoffs. “Guess you can handle a little prick then, huh?”

“I work with you everyday, don’t I?” You smile, but keep your eyes on the computer screen. There’s supposed to be a new shipment of books coming today, and your boss already asked you to set up the display when it gets here. That reminds you, and you speak before Eddie can give you a smartass remark. “Eddie, there’s a box of new vinyls in the back you’re supposed to sort and put out.”

“Yeah? I’ll get right on that, mom.”

You pinch your thumb and forefinger together so that you don’t snap. It’s such a shame that such a pretty man is such a fucking asshole.

The mouse starts to feel slick from your clammy hands as you click around, trying your best to track the package. Slam!

Eddie drops the box of records on the far end of the front desk, making you jump. He grabs a box cutter and pulls open the mess of cardboard and packing tape as aggressively as possible. 

Your head snaps in his direction. “Can’t you do that anywhere else, Munson?”

“Nah, babe. My only entertainment for the day is pissin’ you off, and I just clocked in.”

You facepalm. “Jesus fucking Christ, I miss Robin.”

Eddie cups his hand around the shell of his ear. “What’s that, princess? You need Buckley, huh? Bet she puts up with your shit.”

You stand up. “More like she puts up with me talking about the shit you put me through, because you masquerade as a sweet little angel when you work with her.” You’ve moved toward the other end of the counter before you can even realize, leveling with Eddie and getting in his face.

He places both of his hands on the table, grinning like the cat that got the cream. “Maybe it’s because Robin isn’t a fucking priss, and actually has a personality.”

That hits a nerve, and Eddie catches the way your brows twitch. But your poker face doesn’t slip, not for a second. Your eyes flick to the front door. 

“You have a customer, Munson. I’ll go take care of the records. Oh, and they’re a chick. Maybe you can go see if she has a personality that’s up to your standards and get your dick wet so that there’s a slight chance you become less of a raging asshole.”

Eddie looks over his shoulder at the young woman who’s just walked through the door. She has long, dark hair and more piercings than he can count. She’s his type, and he hates that you clocked that. When he turns back to you, you’re already taking the box off the counter. 

“Oh, and Eddie? Fuck you.”

You get the vinyls sorted and put away in record time. 

————

If it’s possible, the next day is hotter than the last. You’re sweating the second you walk out of your front door, your hairline quickly dampening and your thighs sticking together on the drive to work. 

You put on the one short dress you own today, grateful for the fact that your place of occupation doesn’t have a strict dress code. It’s too hot to wear anything, but the thin, mesh-like fabric and little spaghetti straps will do just fine. 

Luckily for you, Eddie’s shift doesn’t start until one, so you’ll be able to have a chill morning where you won’t feel like blowing your own brains out. Knock on wood, but you even feel a little giddy because Robin opened, which means she’ll be there to welcome you and greet you with a bit of peace. 

You pull open the front door, and pick up speed, knowing the cool air is just within your reach. The sounds of heavy metal reach your ears before you see him. 

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” 

You consider yourself lucky that the floor is empty, because you did not consult your conscience for one second before expressing your pure annoyance that Eddie is here before he was meant to be. 

You push up your sunglasses so they’re level with your eyebrows, and take a look at the figure standing behind the counter. There is no Robin anywhere in sight. “Where is Robin? Why the fuck are you here?” You catch Eddie’s gaze drag up and down your bare legs and that good mood flies right outside the front door. 

“Why are you dressed like that?”

You let out a bitter laugh. “What’s the matter, Eddie baby? You not see a lot of shoulders in that fuck ass club of yours?”

You pull your sunglasses back down over your eyes and grin, because you’ve just seen Eddie Munson blush. That one really hit the mark, and you are immensely pleased with yourself. 

Even more so when you realize he’s following you. You start switching your hips, knowing where his gaze is. You’re not as stupid as he thinks. 

His wallet chain is jingling, his hair flying behind him as he jogs to meet you in the middle of the store. If a customer were to walk in right now, they’d see the both of you standing nose to nose, a murderous look in your eyes, and probably feel like they’d just walked in on a taping for a soap opera. 

“What do you know about my fuck ass—” He coughs, practically chokes. “W-what do you know about Hellfire?” Eddie asks. You can almost see his blood boiling. 

You put your hand on his chest. “I’m a rogue, bitch.”

The sound of your laugh reaches Eddie’s ears before he’s even registered your hand on him, your breath on his neck, and that you’ve turned around and disappeared. There’s no way you’re not a witch. Are you a witch? What does a hex feel like? 

Eddie starts walking to the stacks, suddenly encouraged to see if you carry any witchcraft-related texts. The doorbell chimes and he’s forced to spin around. 

The group of people that have just pushed through the doors is huge. At least six teenagers of varying heights, followed by four or five college-aged kids. And they all look like they’re on a mission. Two of them head straight for the records, one for the magazines, and he loses sight of the rest down the romance aisle. 

In the back, you lock up your bag and shake out your shoulders. 

Your fingers fly over the radio, quickly changing the station Eddie had chosen to one you know plays much better music. You turn the dial down a little too, having already started to feel blood leaking out of your ears. 

At the counter, Eddie watches in horror as the teenagers grab armfuls of records and CDs. What’s worse is that a family of four walk in next. An older woman walks straight up to him. “Excuse me, sir?” Sir? What is he, a fucking mummy? “Where are your bibles and Christian novels?” He catches her eyeing the ink littering his pale arms. 

“I can show you to them, ma’am. If you wanna come with me, we’ve got a whole section just for that!” Your bubbly voice meets Eddie’s ears. And so do the sounds of “There She Goes” by The La’s. 

The woman turns on you, her smile brightening, and she’s quick to follow your purposeful step. Over your shoulder, you wink at Eddie. 

He knows it’s evil. He knows he fucking hates your guts. He hates that you’ve just charmed that red flag of a woman. But he’ll be damned if he fails to admit that his zipper didn’t feel just a little tighter at that faux flirtation in your expression.

“Let me know if you need help finding anything, alright? And if we don’t have anything in stock, we can always order it for you!” 

Your smile doesn’t reach your eyes and you’re practically stomping on your way back to the counter. You use the walk to actually take in Eddie for the first time since you came in. 

He’s wearing a t-shirt that he obviously cut the sleeves off of at home, purely based on the way they’re fraying. His arms are…beefy, to say the least. His skin looks unnaturally soft, and his biceps are just so big and they look like they’re begging to be squeezed or bitten, even. 

Your eyes wander lower when he’s called over to help a child cart probably ten CDs to the counter. His jeans aren’t tight, not exactly. But they fit. He’s got more ass than most people would know what to do with. You can’t help but wonder what it looks like outside of that ratty denim. Or what else he might use that bandana for. 

You park yourself in front of the register, getting the system set up before the rush you can feel coming on. The cracks in the leather seat below you pinch your thighs, but you can’t be bothered to care. You deserve it for thinking of such a dickhead that way. Why are the gorgeous ones always assholes? 

A quick glance over your shoulder tells you that Eddie’s not helping kids anymore, but shamelessly flirting with a girl who can’t be more than twenty-one. She looks slightly intimidated by him, until he flashes his ring-covered fingers in front of her. You recognize that look, the one that tells you she might just eat him alive. 

You fear she’ll be immensely disappointed when she truly gets to meet his personality. 

In the time he’s been trying to woo this young lady, a line has formed, and now you’re stuck cashing people out. The Christian lady is first. 

“You find everything you needed today?”

She drops some change into the tip jar and takes a mint from the tray you just restocked. “Yes, I did, sweetheart, thank you for asking. You see that? Yes, that one—isn’t it gorgeous?”

She forces you to look at the fancy bible she’s picked out, and you do so despite the voice inside your head screaming for her to fucking pay already and get out because she’s been here long enough and the line is only getting longer. 

“It sure is!” You do your best to smile kindly. You hand her the receipt and a small card that not only thanks her for her purchase, but promises a ten percent discount if she comes back within the next month. 

The next customer is easy, a ten year old with a storybook that has colorable pages and a bookmark with rainbow tassels. You hand him a sticker and tell him you like his Gizmo shirt, and he beams his way out the door. 

When you are confronted with a set of parents who clearly have more kids than they seem to want, you feel a warm breath on the back of your neck. “You have a happy pill on you I can have?”

Eddie takes the stack of books out of your hands and places each one in a paper bag. The customers aren’t even looking at you, what with the husband fussing about inflation and How much for a paperback? and the toddler trying to eat the rug.

“No, sweetie,” you start, sliding the bag across the counter, hoping maybe the woman will notice and take her gaze off the street just outside the window. She takes it without looking at you, without a word, and the husband walks away mulling over the receipt, not bothering to do a headcount of kids. “I can’t keep up with your stash of boner pills.”

Eddie laughs. He tosses his head back, bearing his thick neck to you. It’s a slow sound. You can’t help but feel like it’s not something you should hear. It feels like the kind of laugh someone saves for a lover in privacy. And it’s so gravelly and deep. 

The line has slowed, and all that’s left for you to do is keep an eye out for the customers slowly making their way up front. 

You tilt your head a little in Eddie’s direction, signaling that you’re speaking to him. “You probably do need them though, based on the way you were eye-fucking that girl earlier. God knows you’re gonna need a little…happy to keep up with her.” 

Eddie bends a little at the knees, getting his head completely level with yours, his brown eyes twinkling with malice. “You think about my dick a lot, princess?”

You place your hand on the counter, less than an inch between yours and Eddie’s fingers. One move and they’d be touching. Hell, one step forward and your front would be pressed to his. “More like I worry about it,” you say. 

He quirks a brow, his lips ticking up at the corners. “Yeah? Why’s that?”

“Since I see you try and pick up a girl in the store at least three times a week and you know what? They never stick. So either it’s that you can’t get it up, or it’s that if you treated any woman as well as you treat that guitar of yours, maybe they’d be satisfied.”

Eddie takes a step forward. You’ve never been this close to him. “You know, Princess, they might not last, but based on your fucking attitude, it seems like you’re jealous.”

“Jealous?”

He pushes a strand of hair out of your face. Your blood pressure spikes. It feels like your veins are turning colors with how angry you are. Eddie has the nerve to laugh. 

“Yeah. I think all this bitchiness comes from the fact that no one will put their dick anywhere near you. They’re probably afraid you’ll make it shrivel up and die.” You don’t say anything, and he just keeps going. “Hell, I’m nice enough that I’d fuck you if that meant you’d get off my back.”

Your entire body goes rigid. And in that moment, you know that’s exactly what he wanted from you. But you refuse to give him the satisfaction. 

“Thanks for the offer, Munson. But I’d rather gouge my own fucking eyes out than let you touch me. If you wanna see me as a priss, that’s fine. But at least I’m not an insufferable prick who can’t give a damn about anyone who’s not shoved so far up my own ass and ready to fall at my feet at any given moment. Some people have to grow the fuck up.” You practically spit out the last few words, your voice laced with venom. 

Eddie blinks. His cheeks are flushed, his eyes glazed over. For the first time since he met you, he doesn’t have shit to say.

————

You and Eddie are the only ones on schedule today. 

You haven’t spoken in days, just moving around one another and doing your jobs in silence. You can’t lie about the pride you feel in your chest from having finally gotten to him. Even if the dead quiet is unsettling, you feel a sick sense of satisfaction. 

You think Eddie might’ve even mastered the art of a fake, but amiable personality. 

You’re currently hiding away in the back room, unpacking new shipments of books, vinyls, display materials, along with all the shit you actually need like paper for the register and cleaning supplies. 

Not that it matters where you are because you’ve had a total of one customer today. But that’s how Wednesday’s go. 

It’s sort of mindless, this activity. You slide the box cutter over the packing tape, rip open each box, take everything out, stomp the box flat, repeat. It’s not very stimulating, but you don’t hate it. 

The last box though is covered in enough clear tape to catch every fly in the world, and it’s taking some serious sawing to get through. You set your hand on the worn and slightly damp cardboard, bracing yourself to get one end of it loose. 

You’re just getting there when the blade finds a raindrop on the silky tape and slips free. You’re not expecting that, of course, and the blade slices the skin of your forearm quickly and thoroughly. 

You yelp, dropping the box cutter. You’re never one to wail or scream, but you let out a whimper at the shock of pain. Your non-dominant hand starts to shake as you take in the wound.

You’re too panicked to realize that your frightened exclamation could be heard up front, considering there’s no music playing and you left the receiving room’s door open. 

It doesn’t look deep enough to need stitches, but it’s bleeding. Quite a bit, actually. 

“Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.”

There are thudding footsteps, and then Eddie appears in the doorway. “Fuck fuck fuck, what? Bein’ so damn loud.” He pauses, taking in the sight before him. 

Your eyes are glazed over, your hands shaking, and you’re cupping your forearm so as to not let blood drip all over the floors. 

“Oh fuck off, I do not need this right now!” you exclaim, knowing he’s going to berate you or say something demeaning and you are not going to cry in front of him. 

Eddie says your name. 

He never says your name. It makes you look up at him, and you almost feel nauseous at the sincere look on his face. 

“Do you need me to drive you somewhere?”

You roll your eyes. “No, Eddie. I’m not fucking helpless! And I’m not bleeding out either!”

He steps towards you, his hands outstretched like he’s a ringmaster, like he’s trying to tame an apex predator. “But you are bleeding.”

“No fuckin’ shit, Sherlock—”

“Let me help you—”

You decide to shove past him, whimpering your way towards the bathroom. Eddie is on your heels. You try to shut the door in his face, but he plants his boot firmly on the floor and prevents you from it. His glare is unwavering. 

He repeats your name once more. It sends a shiver down your spine. “Just—just fucking stop for a minute, okay? Let me help you. Let me do this one thing without any of this shit, you hear me?” 

You blink. Eddie kicks the door stopper down so it stays open. His eyes flick to the toilet seat. “Sit.”

You’re too winded to say no. So you sit down, cradling your arm, while Eddie rummages around for gauze and wipes and whatever the fuck he can find because he’s not a nurse but he has had to clean himself up on more than one occasion. 

You can’t process that Eddie is treating you this way. Like a human. That he’s insisting on helping you when he doesn’t get anything out of it. 

When he returns, he settles on his knees in front of you, looking into your eyes to make sure it’s okay for him to touch you. You hate the way your stomach flips. But the little shift in your arm tells him it’s alright. 

Eddie’s fingers are cold on yours as he turns your forearm outward so he can look at the wound. You can’t help but watch as he works on you. Takes care of you. 

He sets a paper towel underneath your arm, using another to press down on your skin and make sure the bleeding has stopped. The pressure hurts, but you don’t say a word. 

Eddie hooks his foot around the corner of the trash can, pulling it closer. He throws out the bloody towel and wets another, being as gentle as he can in an effort to clean all of the dried red splotches from your skin. 

The cut isn’t deep, but it definitely nicked a few capillaries along the way. It is a little longer though, and Eddie has to use two big pieces of gauze to cover it. This is after he’d swiped your arm with alcohol wipes, grinning to himself because of how hard you were trying not to show him any weakness. 

Eddie’s thumb lingers on your skin long after he’s taped you up. You’re both silent, sitting in your shitty workplace bathroom. You can feel that he wants to say something, but you don’t know what. It’s why you haven’t gotten up yet. 

You notice his eyes on your face before you meet his gaze. “Will you look at me?” he says. Your heart jolts in your chest. 

“What for?”

“So that I can tell you why I’ve been a giant dick since I met you and you’ll see I’m being real with you.”

Your head shoots up, mainly because you can’t really believe he’s just said those words. “Hold on,” you laugh, “You’re going to explain yourself now? After I spent all that time trying to be your friend and you—”

“Treated you like shit, yeah I know.” Eddie drags his hands down his face. You’re not sure why, but you feel compelled to listen to him. “I showed up and you were there in your cute fucking skirts and you were so nice to everyone and just so…good? I couldn’t stand it.”

You blink. 

“I’m not like that. I’m not good with people and empathetic like you are and it takes me a long fucking time to do anything right. And I chose to take that out on you, to hate you, because you were so perfect, and that was easier than falling for you.”

Your mouth drops open. He what? Eddie waves his hands in your direction. 

“Close your mouth, you’re gonna catch flies. I hated that I could’ve dropped to my knees for you the second I met you. You looked at me like I was precious, like you were happy to meet someone new, and I’m such a fuck up, such a nuisance to so many people, that there was no way I was going to let a pretty girl like you befriend me and have me ruin it all. Because the truth is, I’d kill to be as fucking good as you are.”

You start shaking your head. You feel your eyes glaze over, so you look down at your freshly bandaged arm. 

“And I realize that the only reason you’re a dick to me is because I started that shit.”

You let out the barest hint of a laugh. “It’s called matching your energy. There wasn’t any point in trying to befriend you when you…hated me.”

Eddie says your name again. “I don’t hate you. I do hate myself though, and that I was so—”

“Jealous?” you interrupt, finishing for him. 

He tugs on the hair at the base of his neck. God, this is the most ridiculous fucking thing. 

“Yeah. Jealous that I don’t have as much good in me as you do. I’d see you working, see you happy to help anyone, see you pull more weight than anyone else here. I hated that you’re everything I’m not.”

When you finally look back up at him, you’ve gone all teary, and something inside Eddie breaks. It snaps. 

“We’re not supposed to be the same. If we were, nothing would ever work. You act like you’re just—just this helpless piece of shit, Eddie. You aren’t. But I can’t make you realize that. All I can do is tell you that if you want to be more charismatic—or whatever the fuck—you gotta work at it.”

He’s looking at you with his stupid ass doe eyes, and you think you finally understand him. 

“It doesn’t matter if you’re everything I am, Munson. No one else is livin’ your life for you.” You start to trail off, but not quite yet. “I wish you hadn’t been so fucking sincere so I could yell at you.”

Eddie tosses his head back, bearing his neck to you, and laughs. He raises his hands, beckoning you. “C’mon. Let me have it. You deserve it for how many times I’ve called you a priss.”

You shake out your shoulders, and if you weren’t still drained from the box cutter incident you’d jump up and hop back and forth like you’re readying to get in the ring. 

“I get it, you know? But I also don’t think it’s fair, because, and I’m gonna be honest here, the day you got hired I thought you were so gorgeous. Trust me, I was fully weak in the knees. You were also dressed like, well, you, and I wanted to at least make friends with you because you seemed, to use your words, good.”

“I heard you crack a few jokes, saw you picking up on how things worked, and then with me it was like you had this alter ego. I just don’t think it was fair that I got the short end of the stick here, even if I did enjoy being a smartass to you. So I guess what I’m really saying is, why me? Why weren’t you a dick to Robin, or Brian or fuckin’ Keith? Why not take out your jealousy on someone else?”

Eddie stands up, shoves his hands in his back pockets. “You can hit me if you feel like it, because I know this is going to sound fucked.” He pauses, and then all the words spill out at once, leaving you completely breathless when he’s finished. 

“Not only was I jealous of how perfect your soul is, but you being so sweet made me want you. I wanted you all to myself. I wanted that personality, those kind remarks, that look you get in your eye when you’re listening so well, I wanted it all around me, all the time. It felt like you were this fucking angel, I wanted to lose myself in you.”

“But it didn’t feel like I’d be worthy of you either. I figured you’d get sick of me, real quick, when you realized I wasn’t as good of a person as you. When you figured out all the shit I need to work through. It seemed easier to hate you than to have you see me the way everyone else does. Nobody wants a work in progress.”

You laugh. You take in your surroundings, still in the work bathroom, and you laugh. Eddie’s brows shoot up, and his heart drops out of his ass and onto the tile floors below him. 

“Eddie, everyone is a work in progress. And I am an extremely patient person.”

He recovers himself fast enough to make one more smartass remark. “You’re sure you don’t wanna kick me in the balls or somethin’?” 

You take a step towards him, breathing deeply. Breathing him in. 

“Not right now, Eddie. What’s frustrating though, is how much I want to kiss your dumb ass. Your annoying, over-complicating, completely ridiculous, stupid hot fucking ass.”

Eddie blinks. You might as well have kicked him in the balls because he can’t even think a single coherent thought now. Not with the way you’re pushing up onto your toes and pulling him down towards you, shaking your head so he doesn’t make up something stupid about not deserving it. 

And then your mouth is on his. Your lips are so warm, and everything else disappears. All Eddie can feel is you. Your perfume engulfs him, the heat of your chest pressed against him, the soft fat of your hip under his hand. When you pull on his hair he almost whimpers. 

You kiss hard, harder than he’d have thought, but it’s so gentle at the same time. You’re kissing him stupid. There’s no other way to put it. The only thing that pops in his head is that his suspicions about you being a witch were totally fucking spot on. 

When you finally pull away, your lips have gone all puffy, and there’s this dazed but incredibly satisfied look in your eye. He’d take you home right now and get on his knees for you if you’d let him. 

Your lips tick up at the corners, and he has to shake his head so he can really hear what you’re about to say. 

“Aren’t we on the clock, Eddie?”

————

note: none of the gifs or images i use are mine! i get most of my images from pinterest or here, and gifs from about the same. please let me know if i ever don’t credit someone properly!

[calcifiedunderland]

Part I (here), Part II, Part III (COMPLETED)

Trey Clover vs. Azul Ashengrotto vs. Jamil Viper x GN! Reader

In which the way to the Prefect’s heart is through their stomach! At least, according to three of NRC’s students…

I got the idea from @recreyomakesdoodles , from this post! Thank you so much, hope you liked it!!💕

Tagging people I think would be interested: @aruis4nosleep , @tinseltina

Warnings: food/eating

Notes: I decided to split this into multiple parts because I never have any restraint while writing and this ended up being long. Enjoy :D

———————————————————♣️🐙🐍

“Well, I didn’t expect to see you here.”

Azul pushed his glasses up, balancing a stack of takeout boxes emblazoned with the Mostro Lounge logo on them. Cold blue eyes met Trey’s golden irises. Trey cleared his throat, shifting a heavy picnic basket from one hand to the other. “What brings you here, Azul? I thought you’d be busy at Mostro Lounge…”

Azul snorted, “the Prefect knows to expect me today. Clearly, you are the one intruding.” Earlier that week, he overheard you wailing to your friends about your upcoming History of Magic exam. Apparently, this unit was on Atlantica’s magical history - a topic that was, unfortunately, giving you trouble.

Fortunately, Azul was a mer who grew up learning the history by heart. Naturally he offered you assistance in exchange for having you taste-test some dishes. And how could he not help a poor, unfortunate fellow student like yourself?

Besides, if he wanted to bring along some personally cooked meals to Ramshackle, under the claim that you both would be there ‘for hours, so you may as well try some foods (that I made!) for the upcoming Lounge menu (that I run)!’, that was nobody’s business. And certainly not Clover’s business.

Trey crossed his arms, easily holding the heavy picnic basket like it weighed nothing. Azul could smell the buttery pastries and powdered sugar through the closed basket lid where he stood. “Riddle sent me to give the Prefect an invitation to the next Unbirthday Party. I thought I’d give them some treats to… sweeten the deal.” Though Trey had a disarmingly pleasant smile with the pun, his eyes bored into Azul’s.

Azul frowned. “That couldn’t have been more than a simple text. Aren’t they friends with your first years, as well?” He asked, remembering your first year friends that he’d turned into anemones.

Trey adjusted his glasses and averted his gaze, a telltale deflection sign that Azul didn’t miss. “Well, it’s more official coming from the Vice Housewarden.” “And I suppose the baked goods are complimentary?” Azul sniffed disdainfully at the basket, “Surely, the prefect needs more than pastries. A proper meal,” he emphasized.

Trey’s eyes narrowed, “a basket of baked goods is better than whatever deal you’d have for them,” he nodded to the boxes Azul carried. “Everyone loves a good old fashioned pastry. Can’t say the same for seafood.” Azul opened his mouth to retort, when suddenly both of their ringtones went off.

IM SO SORRY AZUL!!!!! I got caught up with something, can I come over tomorrow?? I likely won’t be done until later, the headmage has me doing stuff 😭

TREY!!! Tysm for the invite, you didn’t have to go out of ur way to give it in person!! ill definitely be there at the party! 😄 sry I’m not there atm, Crowley wanted me to do something for him

Trey frowned, reading your text. Azul huffed, shouldering the stack of food boxes, muttering “looks like today was a loss.” Trey sighed, “well, it can’t be helped…” he made a mental note to put the pastries in the Heartslabyul fridge and just deliver it to you tomorrow, under the guise of ‘checking up on you’ after working for Crowley. The two of them trudged down the path to the Hall of Mirrors, heading back to their dorms.

The two of them walked in silence until Trey abruptly said, “I don’t know what you want with the Prefect, but I hope you have their best intentions at heart.” Azul turned to give Trey a withering look, “I assure you, when it comes to the Prefect, I have nothing but good intentions.” As he stepped into Octavinelle, Azul smirked and muttered, “especially regarding their heart.” Trey lingered for a bit, staring at the Octavinelle mirror with an unreadable expression. “We’ll see about that,” he said aloud in the empty Hall, then headed back to Heartslabyul.

—•—♣️🐙🐍—•—

Meanwhile, you sighed heavily, collapsing onto the chair. The cafeteria was pretty much empty, save for the random student or two. It was already darkening outside, and you were hungry. Crowley wanted you to do something for him just before lunch, and soon half your Saturday was gone running around NRC. You’d even lost track of time, and missed Azul’s study session and Trey dropping in! You groaned, hearing your stomach growl loudly.

“Prefect? What are you doing here?”

You glanced up, seeing Jamil with a large container of tupperware and other small containers. The delicious scent of curries, labneh yogurt cheese, and freshly made pita made your mouth water. Despite yourself, Jamil caught you looking at the boxed-up food more than once.

“…Crowley had me running errands, and I may have skipped lunch…” your voice grew quiet near the end. Jamil raised an eyebrow, then smiled. “I actually ended up making too much food for Kalim,” he said, moving around the table to sit next to you. “There’s enough for an extra person, and I’ve have already eaten.”

Your eyes widened, and Jamil started dishing out some curry and flatbread for you. Bright-colored curry sauce and chickpeas flooded the platter, wafting a delicious scent. As Jamil ripped a piece of pita, your stomach growl loudly. Your face felt warm. Jamil only chuckled, pushing the plate he’d conjured towards you. “What about Kalim?” You asked, feeling bad. Jamil smiled, “Please, go ahead. There’s enough for Kalim and you.” A warm smile grew on your face, and you gave Jamil a one-sided hug before digging in. “Thank you! You’re my savior!”

As he watched you eat, a tender look grew on Jamil’s face. He shifted the food containers so he could watch you while nibbling on some flatbread. It wasn’t difficult to determine that you were off on Crowley’s whims again - with you running around the school and being gone for several hours. With that in mind, it wouldn’t be anyone’s fault if he accidentally made too much food, so he thought he’d drop it off at Ramshackle later. It was sheer luck that you’d dropped by the cafeteria!

You hummed, soaking up some of the leftover curry sauce with your flatbread, “this was delicious, Jamil. Thank you so much.”

Jamil smiled genuinely, but a devious look came into his eyes when you looked back at your plate. “Please, Prefect, allow me. Wait here.” He took the plate, going to the kitchens to box up some food for you to take back. Walking back to you, he handed you the container, “It’s getting late, I can walk you back to Ramshackle.”

The two of you set off, with you holding some of Jamil’s boxes. “This was… really sweet of you, Jamil,” you smiled. You knew Jamil always had his hands full, whether it was taking care of Kalim or managing literally everything else. Maybe the food was making you gush, but you were definitely grateful for the impromptu meal. As you opened the door to Ramshackle, you gingerly handed the boxes back to him.

“Ah, wait,” he shuffled them and held a large one out to you. “This one is yours.” Your eyes widened, “Jamil, this is a lot-“ “Please.” Your eyes met his dark grey irises, and warm gratitude filled your chest. “Jamil, I… I really don’t know what to say. I have to repay you somehow-“ Now that was what he wanted to hear.

“You know, I’ve been meaning to try making some new dishes,” he glanced at you. “I’ve been needing someone to taste test them, and Kalim won’t be available…” You nodded eagerly, “Of course! I’d love to help you!” You said your goodbyes, and as the door shut behind you, Jamil had a calculating smirk on his face. Oh yeah, it’s all coming together.

————————————————————♣️🐙🐍

Thanks for being patient everyone!! Hope you enjoyed this part, reblogs and comments are forever appreciated 💕

lmk if anyone wants to be added to the taglist! Take care shrimpies~ 😘

[latenightdaydreams]

can you do the virgin königx virgin reader where she finally lets him take her virginity (they got married)

Of course!

Virgin!König x Virgin!Reader (fem) Part2

MDNI🔞

Part 1: Here

Master list

>CW: fem/afab, virginity loss, p in v, oral

2k word count

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König sits at the Bride and Grooms table watching you do your father daughter dance, and you look beautiful. Today was the perfect day. Your white wedding dress clinging to your beautiful body while your hair is done up beautifully. He can’t believe someone that looks like him, acts like him, could find such a beautiful wife. A beautiful wife with such a perfect pair of tits and a fat ass that can take every inch of his cock…

His eyes stay glued to you the whole night, using the excuse of social anxiety to stay seated and not socialize; in reality he is sporting a rock-hard boner that’s clear to see in his pants. Can you blame him? You look ethereal and he has the honor of deflowering you tonight. It’s all he can think about. What will it feel like? Better than anal? No way. Can it? His head turns as your voice snaps him back to reality.

“My family said they would clean up if we want to get out of here since it has been a long day.” You walk up to him and sit on his lap. His large hands instantly find their way to your thighs and rear.

“That’s very kind of them Schatz,” he can feel his cock starting to get hard again now with your weight on his lap and knowing he is one step closer.

You both stand and begin to say goodbye to the remaining family. König was doing his best to not seem impolite by rushing you, but he was also gently guiding you to the door with his tight grip around your waist.

Finally, you both leave and make your way to his SUV. He scoops you up and begins to kiss your neck as he walks the last few steps to the car.

“Meine Liebe, du siehst wunderschön aus.” He whispers in your ear as he gently places you in the passenger seat of the car. You smile and blush in response as he runs around the car to get in.

“Are you ready to go to the hotel?” König grabs your left hand and kisses the wedding band that now hugs your finger.

“I am,” you giggle with excitement as he begins to drive off.

.

.

König walks up to the hotel room door with you in his arms carrying you bridal style. A wide smile on his face as he bends down and lets you scan the keycard. Walking into the room there are rose petals everywhere as well as a complimentary bottle of campaign and two glasses.

He places you down on the bed gently, his lips finding yours and kissing you passionately. His lips are hungry for yours now that you’re both alone and able to do things married couples do. Not only can he fuck you, but he can cum in you. He can get you pregnant. The thought of someone so…desirable pregnant with his baby is driving him insane.

König pushes his tongue against your lips and bullies it way inside of your mouth; he is hungry for you. His hand begins to grope your breast over your wedding dress, eager to get you out of it. His hand reaches around back and begins to be greeted by buttons. This wasn’t going to slow him.

Pulling down your tight dress to expose your breast König begins to kiss down your neck until he gets to your breast, his lips kissing every inch until his lips wrap around your nipple and sucks while twirling his tongue around. His hand grabbing bunches of fabric and picking it up until he can get his hand under.

His hand feels the heat between your legs and his cock begins to rise. He pushes past your thighs to touch the lacey fabric that covers his holy grail. He lets out a deep groan as he pulls his lips from your breast. Bringing his hand out from under your dress, he pulled his button-down shirt and popped the buttons off to get it off quickly. You couldn’t help but to giggle at his eagerness.

“Let’s get this dress off of you.” His arm wraps around your waist and effortlessly flips you so he can see the buttons. His eyes widen seeing how many and how small they are. The top four broke from him exposing your breast. “Schatz, would you be mad if I just ripped them?”

“Yes!” You respond quickly, shooting him a glare.

“Okay, okay.” He makes an “oh shit” face as his fingers begin to work at the buttons. After what felt like eons he finally finished.

With one swift motion he pulls the dress off of you and lays it on the chair in the room. His eyes rake over your body. He has seen it hundreds of times before but this time it’s his. His hands go to his belt and he begins to undress from the waist down. You get yourself comfortable on the bed and scoot back to the headboard. Your leg falls to the side slightly and exposed how your red lace thong barely covers your pussy as one lip hangs out the side. You shaved? This was unexpected, but whatever you felt comfortable with König was into.

“Are you ready to start Liebling?” König asks while gently stroking his cock.

You give him a nervous nod as he approaches you on the bed. His heavy body made the bed sink as he moved his body over yours. His lips pressed against yours before he slowly began to leave a trail of wet and sloppy kisses down your body. Goosebumps rising on your skin as you squirm slightly from the pleasure of his kisses.

When his mouth met your pussy, you let out a light satisfied moan. His tongue teasing at first, only lightly licking up in quick motions as if you were an ice cream cone. Your eyes gazing down at him with anticipation. His icy blue eyes meeting yours as a smirk comes across his face. He lowers his head and begins to rapidly lap at your clit making your legs twitch like crazy. Your hands grasping the bed sheets as you let out a shaky moan.

Hips slowly roll back and forth matching his tongue’s motion. “Yes, please…” One hand moves to his head, brushing his blonde hair back. His eyes never left yours as he watched your reaction to his tongue.

Pulling back, König begins to rub your clit with his pointer finger. Slowly moving his finger down to feel the entrance of your vagina. His gaze drops as he looks at your beautiful cunt. His finger’s part your folds as he looks down to see your untouched vaginal canal. “I’m supposed to fit in that?” He thinks to himself, kissing your pussy a few more times he moves his body back over yours.

“Are we going to do it like this?” You ask nervously as his body begins to nestle between your legs.

“Ja, Liebling just relax, okay?” König was nervous as well, but he didn’t show it so you could relax.

Peppering small kisses across your chest and up your neck to your lips.  His heavy cock resting on your wet pussy. The feeling of the heat and wetness teasing him. He moves his hips slightly to create some friction as he is rubbing it against your swollen clit.

“I’m nervous,” you say looking into his eyes as your hands go to the back of his head and caress his hair.

“I know, I’ll be gentle, Schatz.” He brings his hand up to caress your hair and brush it out of your face.

König moves his hand gently, slipping down to your thigh and moving your leg slightly up. He leans his body back slightly so he is kneeling with his back hunched over. With his other hand he grasps his erect cock and lines it up with your entrance.

Slowly he leans forward and pushes the tip in. Königs eyes frantically searching your face to make sure you’re okay. He can feel his sensitive tip being squeezed by your gummy and inviting warmth. With every bit of his power, he is resisting the urge to just push all the way in at once. Instead, he slowly pushes forward. His eyes trailing from your eyes down your body to look at his cock inching its way in.

You feel a sharp sting and pressure as he pushes in. A pained mewl leaves your lips as you close your eyes, your hands reaching for the bedsheets to grab. You read on the internet that it was only going to hurt a little, but you also read the average cock is only supposed to be like 5.5 inches and two fingers wide. You feel soft kisses on your forehead as he pushes in more and you moan out.

“Are you okay?” König asks, his voice dripping with pleasure.

“Yeah, it just hurts.” You look up at him.

“Do you want to stop?”

“No, keep going.”

He is thankful you said to keep going because he didn’t want to pull out. With both hands, he pushes your legs back a little more as he watches his cock slowly pull half way out. There is a bit of crimson red on him, but he knew it was to be expected so he doesn’t worry.

Pushing back in he groans loudly, his hips pressing all the way against yours this time as he bottoms out. Your virgin pussy now squeezing the entire length of his massive cock. The feeling of your walls fluttering around him, trying to adjust to his size, was too much for him. Eyes rolling back, he begins to buck his hips forward into you. The sound of your wet pussy is all he can focus on as his mind becomes lost in a haze of euphoria. He understands why men have gone to war for this.

“Fuck y/n, you feel so fucking good.” König growls as his eyes open to scan your body. Your breast bouncing beautifully in rhythm with his thrust. His dick covered in a mix of red and creamy white triggering something primal within him.

You begin to feel the pleasure overwhelm the pain as König pushes your legs all the way to your chest and begins to fuck you even faster. His massive 300lb body slamming into your tight cunt over and over. Your eyes going crossed as you struggle to stretch for him, babbling in your native language and begging him for more.

His cock passing over your sweet spot repeatedly causing a strange pressure sensation to build up at your core. Your hands desperately grab at Königs sweaty arms, feeling his muscles flex with every thrust.

“I- I have to pee.” You moan out.

This snaps König out of his euphoric haze and he looks down into your eyes, maintaining pace as he begins to watch you, knowing that you’re about to cum.

“König!” You moan out as the pressure begins to become too much and your legs begin to shake. You look into his eyes looking down at you. “I- I’m,” you can’t even speak

“Cum for me baby,” Königs voice sounds low and sensual. He leans back slightly to move one of his hands and he begins to rub circles over your clit with his thumb.

The extra touch took you over the edge. Legs trembling and eyes crossing, you let out a screaming moan. Your back arches as you succumb to pressure feeling. Waves of euphoria wash over your body as you squirt on Königs abdomen.

“Mein Gott, ja.” König whispers as he lightly slaps your soaking wet pussy.

“Es tut mir Leid,” Small whimpers leaving his lips König begins to mutter apologies in German over and over for not lasting longer, his pace becoming more erratic until he reaches climax.

A mix of both of your moans filling the room as his cock twitches and pulses inside your pussy. The head of his cock pressed all the way against your poor beat up cervix as he released completely. His eyes closed as he pants, trying to catch his breath. Droplets of sweat dripping from him on to you.

Slowly he lowers his body and wraps his arms around you. He begins to kiss you all over, telling you how much he loves you and is thankful you allowed him this moment.

[lou-struck]

They Said No... Part 1

Obey Me! x MC!

Featuring: Lucifer, Mammon, and Leviathan

Part 2 HERE

Part 3 HERE

~Regular projects are being put on pause because I am a bit stressed. And I feel like this will help me out.

~We all get asked to do things sometimes that we do not want to do. And it's okay to say no, but sometimes you need a little extra help to get the point across.

Warnings: Pushy Demons, talk of pact control,

Lucifer

The eldest Avatar of Pride tries to hide the spring in his step as he approaches your meeting place. He had managed to work through all of the day's paperwork, and to celebrate, he was planning on taking you out to a nice meal on the town. 

But as he gets closer, he sees a few familiar noble demons practically standing over you. The polite smile that rests on your lips is betrayed by your overly tense body language and the grip you have on your DDD. Clearly, you would like to be anywhere else.

His brow furrows in concern as he focuses his attention on your conversion to see what exactly it is they want with you. Knowing that he can't just step in on your conversation without a good reason. Especially in High society.

"I will not do that; it is not right." your voice says, sounding quite annoyed at the situation you are in. It makes Lucifer chuckle to himself; you are just as headstrong as ever. But he does wonder what deed these men are asking you to do that frustrates you so.

The Demon clears his throat haughtily and steps closer to you, his companion mirroring the action, not giving you a chance to walk away. "It's for the good of the Devildom MC if you were to just use that silly little pact mark of yours and order Lucifer to drag his feet on signing off on that royal proclamation the Demon Lord has put out. We will happily be on our way and out of your hair."

Lucifer's jaw clenches furiously at the Demon's words. Ever since word of your pact with the eldest avatar of sin has spread through the Devildom, he has been waiting for insignificant worms to try and abuse the pacts. The Larger of the two demons is a known instigator of political conflict, thriving on the chaos of delayed legislation and discord. His beady eyes stare down at you condescendingly as he flares his dragonfly-shaped wings in the hope of intimidating you into doing his bidding. 

"I don't use my pacts," you spit, a nervous tremor to your voice. Your strength may be great, but you haven't the energy to deal with these Demons right now. "Please leave me alone."

"You will do what I want," the Winged Demon snarls, reaching out toward your arm. 

"That's enough," Lucifer cuts in, stepping down the corner as if he has only just stumbled upon this little scene. The three of you turn towards him instantly, and the two demons take a large step away from you cowardly. "Now, my human has clearly said no to whatever it was you were trying to get them to do, so be on your way."

Too afraid to say anything else, the two demons rush away, leaving you alone with the Avatar of Pride. You throw yourself into his chest, your body shaking a bit as you relax. 

"I did say no, Lucifer," you say into his collar. "Did you hear me? I would never want to do that to you, I promise."

"I heard everything; you did nothing wrong." he soothes; dealing with those demons can wait for later, but for now, he needs to take care of you.

Mammon

Mammon loves to spoil you more than anything in the three realms. The days after he plays well at the casino are spent in luxury; he takes you to the best shops and restaurants in the Devildom, more than ready to treat you the way you deserve to be treated. 

The café you were at is no exception with its luxuriously decadent sweets and, as Mammon had just found out, the fully stocked bathroom of complimentary samples. After sticking a handful of the mini cologne samples into his pocket, he comes back to the table to where you are sitting. But as he approaches your sweet little table in the corner, he notices you are no longer alone. The previously unoccupied seats at your table are now in use by some demons he knows.

Mammon may not be the best judge of character, but even he knows these guys are bad news. In the past, they have tried to start numerous sham businesses and fraudulent get-rich-quick schemes. 

Why in Diavolo would they be talking to his human? This is supposed to be his time with you?.

He feels his protective greed towards you start to flare up as he approaches a table, his superior hearing picking up a bit of their conversation.

"Come on, doll face," the blond one coo's leaning back on the seat next to yours, "We got a great opportunity for Mammon; he just needs a bit of convincing to agree."

You shake your head now and, with a politeness that would put even Barbados to shame, and say that Mammon is perfectly capable of making these decisions for himself. 

The trust that you have for your first Demon causes a heavy flush to appear on his cheeks. 

"Don't be like that, Mc," the other one pushes, swinging a lazy arm over your shoulder. Not seem to care that you tense up under the weight of his unwelcome touch. "if you do this for us, two pretty influential demons will owe you a favor."

The touch is the straw that broke the camel's back. No one gets to act so freely with his human. "Oi, get yer own human," he shouts, rushing forward and pulling you from the Demon's grip. "Come on, Mc, they don't got anythin worth lookin' at." 

Not caring about the uneaten treats that have just arrived at the table, he leads you away from those creeps and out of the cafe. 

Once alone and safe, he shoots you a wink. "Next time, just don't say anything to those losers. The Great Mammon will keep em away."

Leviathan

Levi's merch collection is one of the most coveted of the entire Devildom. His Figurines, Manga, DVDs, and memorabilia are worth a small fortune thanks to his fascination and skill as a top Otaku.

He has a sixth sense for picking out the most sought-after merch.

His fans on his online servers love his collection almost as much as he does. Blowing up his chat whenever he unboxes a new figurine.

He loves it, but he prefers to keep his online life online. Especially when he has to leave the house to go to RAD.

Today is one of those days; although most of his classes are online, he still has to show up to campus to take exams. With his exam done, he leaves the testing center and goes to find the classroom where you are studying.

As he approaches the open door, he sees you having a conversation with a demon he thinks he recognizes.

Not one for unwanted social interaction; he waits outside only to hear the conversation that the two of you are having.

"Please, Mc, you gotta give me that figurine. Levi-chan will never love Zaramela as I do. It will be the perfect addition to my collection." they plead, sinking to their knees and staring up at you with watery avian esque eyes. Zaramela is one of Levi's favorite Idols; he won a contest the other day for one of her limited-edition singing figurines. 

Levi has already turned down many people's requests to buy it, wanting to keep it for himself. But now they're going through you to try and get him to hand it over. It's so gross it makes him want to shut himself away in his room and never come out. Curiously he waits for you to respond to the crying Demon.

"He already told you that he wasn't going to give it away. "You stay calm, taking a step back to create some distance between you and the Demon. "You're just gonna have to find something else for your collection."

"No," they shout, springing to their feet, "I need her; I need her. Why don't you do this one thing for me?"

Levi knows his Henry can handle this guy, but the pushiness the Demon is showing towards you is something that makes his blood boil.

"Like MC would ever listen to a normie like you, you are a disgrace to the fandom." Levi spits with a confidence he didn't know he possessed as he takes your hand and walks you back to the house of lamination.